


Thunder, Danger, and Everything Reckless: Winter

by epitomedashderangedfangirl



Series: Thunder, Danger, and Everything Reckless [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ensemble Cast, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:32:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 43,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2432255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epitomedashderangedfangirl/pseuds/epitomedashderangedfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eighteen year-old actor Ian finds out that he was not who he thought he was his whole life. Join him as he deals with his once perky best friend, his crazed manager, and the love of his life, or so he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this is just the prologue. The real thing starts at the next chapter ;) xx

There are bits and pieces of tiny hairs that have settled on my neck, right on the collar of my vintage green Chevy shirt, and as much as I want to wash up right away, I really can’t. Debbie and Carl are on either side of me but they keep bickering as if I wasn’t in between them. Also, even if we did head back to the house right now, they would call dibs and I’ll probably get to shower after them, so I might as well hang out for a while. Breathe in the Southside Chicago air.  
  
I haven’t had my hair cut since last year when we that Valentine’s film with Mandy and it’s like sixteen months ago already. I really have no idea what to do with my hair, the stylist usually does the decision-making, or the writes, depending on what I need to look like. So when the three of us step into the nearest barber shop, it was Debbie who chose a hair for me. And of course, like every other preteen girl in her age, she chose what was in. I didn’t even have to look into the mirror to see how I look like with only the sides of my head cleanly shaven, leaving the red hair on middle top of my head untouched, looking like a fucking carrot top.  
  
Of course I couldn’t say no to Debbie. I wouldn’t say no to this sweet little girl who is on her way attacking Carl. “Alright, you two, that’s enough.”  
  
Debbie retorts that Carl was asking for it as she fixed her newly trimmed hair. Carl looked like he was about to disagree but then decides to say something else instead. “Will you teach me how to use a pocket knife now?”  
  
“We still have to get to Kev’s truck and pick Liam up, you psycho. Don’t listen to him, Ian,” Debbie states.  
  
I did not want to make any promises, knowing I’d have to leave soon. But Carl looked desperate and by the looks of it, I think neither Lip nor Frank was the type to do these things to him. So I figured why the hell not. “Yeah, sure, Carl, but the last time I had to use one was around two years ago, so I might be a little rusty.”  
  
“Awesome! Fine with me,” he excitedly starts doing fancy movements on his right hand with his imaginary knife.  
  
I grin at him as Debbie rolled her eyes at him. She was about to walk straight up another block when Carl suggested we take the shortcut. I had to agree. My feet were killing me and the looks I get from some of the neighborhood strangers are starting to creep me out now. Debbie told him to shut up and that there is a reason why we have to go around this block.  
  
“That was months ago, Debs, God, I just want to get to Kev’s truck sooner and let Ian buy us some ice cream!” I didn’t know that was part of the plan. But I have had experiences with Southside people and I’ve seen danger beneath their poker faces. I kind of don’t want to see neither of them get mad right now, or ever.  
  
“Debbie, since we took your path on the way to the barbershop, why don’t we take Carl’s this time, okay? Plus, the Playlot Park is still blocks away, I think we could use a little shortcut, right?”  
  
Debbie sighs frustratingly, “fine, but if something happens, I hope you don’t mind me saying ‘I told you so’”.  
  
Carl starts walking off to the road that said S. Trumbull Avenue. I smile at Debbie and wrapped an arm around her shoulder and say, “We’ll be okay, Debs.”  
  
“I don’t see what’s so bad about this road, Debbie,” I tell her calmly when she still does not say anything. We were three houses away from the elevated railroad when I realize what Debbie was worrying about this whole time. Last two houses and we were standing right outside the Milkovich house. Oh.  
  
Debbie answers me with a soft, “yeah.” Did I just say that ‘oh’ out loud? Jesus.  
  
I hear Carl calling from under the elevated railroad, “are you guys coming or what!?” That’s when I realize that I have stopped walking and just stood there, on that same spot, from that very night. I look at Carl from a distant then I look back down the ground. “I uh—“  
  
“We’ll go ahead. See you at the park, Ian,” Debbie smiles at me reassuringly, like she understands everything. And I smile back at her.  
  
“Yeah, okay, thanks, Debs.” Then I see her walking off. Carl looks confused why I wasn’t coming along, but Debbie knocks him on the head and yeah, she can handle Carl.  
  
When I don’t see them anymore, I go back to my ground staring. It’s still the same ground, although minus the snow, and all the chaos that night brought along with it. I run my hand over the fence and I see us that night, right on this spot. I see the man pulling the trigger on the other side and my insides starting to cave in.  
  
There was thunder, warning me the whole time. I knew that he was danger, but I let him pull me in. He is the bittersweet taste that my tongue could never forget. Mickey Milkovich is the sliver in my heart this whole time and because of him, I have become a combination of everything reckless.  
  
It is summer, but I feel cold rushing all over me. I’m standing here in broad daylight but I feel like I am still the helpless me lying on the ground. There’s nothing wrong with my eyes but all I see is him, lying next to me, trying so hard to breathe, gathering everything in him just so he could say, “Ian.”  
  
If I were to decide, I could have stopped breathing right there and then. Hearing his voice calling my name is the best thing in the world and I’d die happy with that. Not go on living like this, acting stupid, and unable to walk past his place without pulling an impromptu music video.  
  
The old woman sitting on the porch from across the place starts calling me and asking if I needed anything. I swear to God, anything could just mean anything in this crazy place so I smile at her and say “No, Ma’am, I’m good,” and then I start walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are loved! :D


	2. The Sins of my Caretaker

Karen has been ranting on for almost an hour now. I normally don’t care about her drama anymore since I have too many lines to memorize to waste my precious time on listening at her craziness. I go out of my room and see her in the living room, hitting one of Dad’s clown collections. Not the first one she broke, as it appears. Mom is by the side of the flat screen television, hiding behind Dad. She never really learned how to handle when Karen starts acting up.  
“Karen, honey, just please put the bat down,” her voice is worried and it shows in the way her hands are shaking, holding onto Dad’s back. “Eddie, do something, please!”  
  
Dad should know better than stopping Karen in the middle of her rant, “I’m trying, Sheils.”  
  
I badly need a drink so I figured I could just pass them by. Karen does not give a shit about me anyway. “I’ll just go grab a drink then I’m leaving to this meeting thing, okay?”  
  
“YOU! You’re not going anywhere, Ian Jackson, no wait, just Ian.” Karen smiles devilishly and I swear to God, I have seen her angry, this is just borderline crazy.  
  
I try to act cool and say, “Karen, last time I checked, I am your older brother and you don’t have the slightest say in me going anywhere I want. I am basically paying for your education.” I grab a can of light beer and head straight to the door. Karen blocks me with her bat. “Seriously, what the fuck is your problem, Karen? Are you on your fucking period or something? And God, Mom, Dad, say something?”  
  
“Oh, no no no, Ian, I have been waiting for this day to come. To turn the tables around. to finally get back at your stupid face.”  
  
She has always been jealous of me our whole lives. She has made herself believe that our parents love me more than her. I really don’t think so. I mean, what good and loving parents would send their son to work and live off of him, right? I have been acting since I was five. Mom had no choice but be the one to accompany me from one place to another. She’s basically my manager until one day five years ago when she just suddenly could not get out of the house, agoraphobia, that’s what the doctor said. Dad had no choice but to stop working and be my manager, a job he obviously could not handle, so we had to hire a real manager. Since then, he stayed at home and took care of Mom, and whatever trouble Karen got into at her school.  
  
“Shut up and listen, you self-centered prick,” she says every word bitterly. “Check out that teddy bear on the shelf, does that look odd to you?”  
  
“Why, yes, Karen. It looks so fucking ugly. Did one of your cheap suitors give it to you?” I scoff at her. That should do it. Can I go now?  
  
“Fuck no, asshole. There’s a camera in that fugly thing and that’s going to capture this very moment.” She grabs the beer and gets on the coffee table, still trapping me with the bat she’s holding on the other hand. It seems as if Mom wants to say something about the coffee table and God, really? Your daughter is acting up and you’re worried about the goddamn table?  
  
“Just get this over with so I can go already.”  
  
‘Fine, I was going to break it to you gently, but since you asked, I’m going to give it to you straight,” she lets out a sarcastic laugh before declaring, “you are not my brother, Ian. _My_ parents, for some reasons, took you in before I was born, yada yada yada, you’re adopted. You are not a Jackson, congratulations.”  
  
I look at my parents and they were as shocked as I was. “Oh, God, don’t be too shocked, Mom and Dad, it’s not like you didn’t know this time was coming, right? I just did you all a favor.” Karen then gulps from the can of beer and puts the strap of her pink duffel bag on her right shoulder. “I am done with all this bullshit.” She grabs the teddy with the camera on her way out, leaving me, and my parents, well, not really my parents.  
  
It felt like the world was tumbling down on me. The family I have had my whole life was nothing but an ugly lie. Mom saying I was just unique, being the only one with the red hair, and God, the fact that I look nothing like my parents. I feel sick.  
  
I try to say something, but Mom, well, Sheila was crying and Eddie was hugging her. “Ian, son—“  
  
“No, fuck no. I am not your son.” I look at them, I don’t understand but anger is starting to build up on me so I just say, “I have to go.”  
  
∞  
  
I see Sheila, my pseudo-mother, dialing someone on the phone. Probably Jimmy. Yeah, good luck with that. He’s most likely busy fucking Estefânia through her bed tonight. I get into my black Ford Fusion as soon as I got out of the house. I don’t know what I’m feeling exactly. I am angry at Karen, for being an envious bitch and having to go that low. And my fake parents, God, how do I even begin to express what I feel towards them? And then f course, the question of who my real parents might be comes springing as I drive my way out of our place. I don’t even care what Karen’s going to do with that footage of hers anymore. My life is fucked as it already is. Why not put that up on YouTube and be in the most viewed clip of the week? Or maybe even a month. See if I care.  
  
I am literally going nowhere and I have probably passed by the same street twice already. Fine, if Karen’s going to be a stupid bitch, then might as well go to West Hollywood and step into one of those gay bars I’ve been hearing about. About time I become a real teen and act rebellious, right?  
  
A good twenty minutes later, I find myself driving under the lights of nighttime L.A. County. Is this it? I hope to God I’m in the right place. I’d ask someone but then again they would be able to tell it’s me and no, I don’t need another rumor right now. After checking the right roads to go up on Google, I am back to driving. I head straight to Santa Monica Boulevard and I turn left to N. Robertson Boulevard.  
  
And then there I was, driving down LA County’s hottest gay spot, gay area, gay place, gay district? What do I call it, really? I have heard about the top go-to places around here. I see Here, and then there’s The Abbey, and I read online that Rage is on the other side of this block.  
  
All the excitement of finally getting into one of these places is making me forget of the shitty situation I just got out of an hour ago. This is good. Now which place should I go? I sure can’t go to The Abbey, too many people there, and Here, well, too close to The Abbey. I drive a little further and oh, I did not know there was a Club Red. This is perfect. I bet there won’t be too much people around to notice me, but still enough to keep that club running, right? I hope they’re enough to distract me tonight.  
  
My car decides to run out of gas a couple meters away from Club Red. Great, just great. Now I have to walk to that club without getting seen by anyone. Someone could just easily snap a photo of me and Instagram it or something, Jimmy will find me in 0.5 seconds. This is the downside of being one famous teen actor. Everybody is watching your every move. The fact that I’m gay just makes things worse. All these questions, who I’m dating, my ideal girl, like fuck all, Taylor is my type, and neither Swift nor Momsen. Taylor fucking Lautner, that’s who.  
  
I think about it for a while and figured that since I’m already here, might as well go walk it out. “Fuck it,” I mutter as I head over to the entrance. I’m pretty much fucked either way. Jimmy will have to come save my ass one way or another. There’s an arrow sign lit up with blinking lights that says “This Way to Club Red” and so I go and this tough looking bouncer stops me. Okay, maybe tough is too much, he’s got a powerful ponytail on and he looks like a die-hard fan of Steven Seagal or something. I can’t tell if he’s gay or not. For some reasons, he looks like that Cronk dude from The Emperor’s New Grooves. I mean, he’s tough and all, but I’m almost sure that he’s got a stupid side.  
  
“Really? I’m eighteen. Do you need my fucking—,“ I was going to say ‘driver’s license’ but the look on his face tells me that he just realized who I was. Huh. Does that mean that I could’ve came two years ago and he’d still let me in? Oh, the perks of being famous.  
  
“Have fun, Mr. Jackson,” the bouncer says with a wink. Did that just happen? What a creep. Definitely gay.  
  
∞  
  
Once inside, the house music blared right into my ears. I look around and notice how it’s still the same as the usual clubs that Jimmy has forced me to go for public appearances. There’s the bar, straight ahead of me, which I think is perfect so that I could slide into one of those high chairs easily. Lights, loud remix, all the same. Well, except for the fact that there is no sign of ladies around. Then I see an elevated platform, and right on top, a male performer in nothing but a tiny pair of glittered shorts. I don’t think he’s a stripper because he’s got nothing else to remove or he would end up nude. But then again, maybe I got here late or something. I seriously have no idea so I walk directly to the bar.  
  
I notice that a lot of the guys are staring at me, okay, maybe most of them. I’m used to this shit. I mean, I am America’s teen heartthrob, after all. People just stare all the time. They have a look on their eyes though. But I ignore them, they might go tweet that I’m very rude for staring back at them without a smile. Damn Jimmy Steve and his rules. Besides, the video of Karen is probably all over the internet by now. And she thinks Sheila and Eddie will love her more now? What a laugh.  
  
The bartender asks for my order, saving me from all the oddness I’m feeling. “It is okay buddy, they won’t tell.” Won’t tell what? Oh that I’m here? This place is heaven. Have I known that this rule exists, I would’ve made this my hiding place years ago. God knows how crazy those fangirls can get. I smile back at him and thank him.  
  
I’m down to my second bottle of whiskey. Not good. God knows what happens whenever I drink too much whiskey. My head is all fuzzy now. I feel my phone vibrate for the nth time already but I don’t even check who it is. It’s not important right now. I am in the middle of my first ever rebellious act and no Jimmy, or any other person, is going to distract me.  
  
A guy sits next to me without even asking if I minded or not. How rude. I take a look at him, just to see the man who did not even care to check my face. Hello? Am I too drunk? Is this really happening? I stare at him as he ordered for his drink and he must have felt my gaze because he looks mad when he faces me. It quickly turns into a surprised look when he realizes that he was actually sitting next to Ian Jackson. I on the other hand feel like my eyes were the size of the moon. All of a sudden, there was no music. All of a sudden, there was nothing but me, and him, and how his eyes were the bluest of blue. They look so beautiful and perfect and I couldn’t stop staring at them, and he does not look away either.  
  
Everything was just swell, in the best way possible, and pretty much in sync. It felt like we were in a movie, trust me, I know what being in a movie is, and it feels like it right now. Well, at least until the big bartender says that his order is up and we awkwardly look away from each other.  
  
I am not sure how long that staring contest was, but somehow, it felt like forever. I know I’ve had too much to drink and all, but I’m still certain that grabbing a stranger’s arm was not a god thing. I did it anyway. I grabbed Blue Eye’s free arm just as he stood up from his seat and he looks at me again as if asking himself if this is for real. Ian Jackson? Really? And I mumble something that I myself don’t understand, which most likely explains the confused look on his face.  
  
I got up and next thing I know, it’s puking wonderland, all over his black jacket. Thanks a lot, whiskey. I could feel a nice pair of strong arms carrying me somewhere. Good services, you mighty bouncer.


	3. Emily

I wake up with my brains killing me. Hangover, perfect. I rub my eyes open, finally enabling myself to have a look at where I spent the night. What is this place? There is a lamp next to the bed, but it does not look like it works. The bed I am sitting on creaks as I move over to the edge. I realize that I am in a really tiny room and this does not look like the hotel I asked Jimmy to take me to last night.  
  
Then as if on cue, everything kicks off flashing back on my mind. Right, I was pulling a rebelling teen thing last night, and yeah, I did not contact Jimmy at all. “Where the fuck am I?”  
  
An angry voice shouts right back at me. “You’re on your highway to zero career, that’s where!” Jimmy comes out of what seems to be the tiniest bathroom I have ever seen. “Not answering my calls, not telling me where you were, drinking and staying in this shitty motel? Really, Ian? Is this how you handle that stupid Karen video? That’s real mature. Let’s go grab you some coffee.”  
  
“Where is—,” I start asking but he cuts me in.  
  
“Karen? The fuck I care, probably left to Canada or something. After what she did to you, God, get up already.”  
  
“Fuck, no. I mean the one who brought me here.”  
  
“Jesus, you’re career could be dead by now if some girl hooked up with you and spread some fucked up rumors and shit,” he says as he grabs my shoes and starts putting them on me. The look on my face is enough for him to understand that I could put them on myself. “Look, you’re lucky enough it was just some guy, I don’t know, he did not tell me who he was, really. Apparently, he called the police, and the police told us.”  
  
I try to subtly ask what his name was. “Didn’t he even bother to ask for some reward? You know how people crave for money these days. You’re kidding, right?”  
  
“Do I look like I’m kidding? Fuck you, Jackson, I am dying. How the fuck will I let you exit this hellhole without those girls seeing you?! It’ll be all over the news any second now and all you think about is some angelic dude who got you here!” Okay, I stirred the devil awake.  
  
“I could’ve ended up somewhere worse, Jimbo. Angelic dude saved me,” I retorted.  
  
He looks infuriated now. I usually make fun of him until I’m getting on his nerves, just to see him snap. Right now, I’m not joking though. I want to know who got me here, in this tiny and God, really smelly place. His voice is low but meaningful, “Do you hear yourself right now? You sound like a fucking bitch? That’s why you never get a girl, seriously.”  
  
I snap back at him with a highly different thing because no, I will never ever want to get a girl. “Whatever, Christ. I need to shower.” I undo the buttons of shirt one by one, and then I feel something in my pocket. I’m glad I have sobered up a bit to realize that I did not have something in here last night. I wait until I get to the bathroom to take what appears to be a torn out page out my pocket.  
  
∞  
  
The ride is quiet. My car is probably towed somewhere by now. Jimmy can handle that. I trust this guy too much sometimes. I managed to exit the trashy motel through their back gate where my manger’s tinted van was waiting for me. I keep thinking about the note I found in my pocket.

_**Sorry, I wasn’t sure what to do. I figured you could use a bit of distance.** _

I try thinking about it, if the bouncer gave me the note. If it was him, he could have sent me somewhere, or called my manager, or whatever. So, no, not him. I think that is part of a club’s protocol thing, right? I mean, at least for my case. I think being sent in that shitty place instead of the hospital or the police just tell me that it was him, Blue Eyes guy from last night. He’s probably afraid to be dragged with my stupidity act. Poor guy.  
  
Something about what the note says is really freaking me out though. It’s too good to be true. Whoever he was, he could have ratted me out already. Tweeted and Instagramed where I was sleeping and the mess I got myself after the whole Karen thing. He did not though. Also, he could have stolen some shit from me because I have at least a couple hundred bucks left in my wallet, and yes, my credit cards. He didn’t. Instead, he left a note in my shirt saying I needed distance and fuck, he’s is right. “I need a drink.”  
  
Jimmy starts saying, “Need I remind you that your parents asked me to—“  
  
It’s my turn to cut him. “Need I remind you that actually, they’re not my parents and you’d be jobless right now if it wasn’t for me?”  
  
“Jesus Christ, fine, one drink, and then you’ll need a real bath back at your place for your press conference thing with Emily—"  
  
No, hold it. There is no way he’s making me do all that. “Stop it right there, I am never going back to that shitty house and see those lying bastards. Besides, it’s time I get my own place. Really.”  
  
He stops at a red light and faces me. “We can’t do that right now.”  
  
I smile at him as I say matter-of-factly that I know, because right now, we are going for a drink. “But afterwards, you’ll be taking me to Chateau Marmont so I could prepare for that thing with Emily and you can do your thing looking for a new home for me. Alright?” When he does not answer, I add, “On second thought, let’s just have that drink there, more time for you to look for a new place for me.” What better way to surprise Sheila and Eddie right? I wish I could see the look on their faces when they find out I’m drinking at the most controversial place in the history of West Hollywood.  
  
He sighs and turns left as the green light blinked on.  
  
∞  
  
The press is crazy. They mostly ask me, how I feel and stuff. I really do not feel like talking about this shit right now. Or ever. So I just smile and nod, then shake my head a lot. I keep shrugging and saying, “It is what it is” because, to be honest, it is what it is. I have no other choice but to go on with life, or something.  
  
They ask Emily how it feels to be somehow in the same state as I currently am in, in what way is she taking care of me since she’s been to this fiasco two years ago.  
  
I remember how she reacted when she found out about her real name. She called me up crying, I was sixteen and even after all the projects I have done, I still don’t know how to comfort a girl, even if she was my best friend. So I picked her up and took her to my favorite place in the world, the Santa Monica Pier. Back then, I thought that maybe at least for awhile, the place and the rides could distract her.  
  
That night, she went online and tweeted, _**“Apparently, I’m Mandy, not Emily. Oh what’s in a name, right? ;)**_ ” Then it was followed by how lovely the evening was, thanking me and everything.  
  
Emily thanks and smiles at the person who just asked her before giving her answer. “Well, life’s really crazy, I’m actually Mandy and he’s adopted. Nobody’s life is perfect. Ian and I have never talked about it yet, but we will, sooner or later, right?” She faces me and I nod at her as if on cue. Yeah, sooner or never. “We’re always here for each other and we could change his name, too. Just for fun! How does Philip sound?” And everybody laughs at her perkiness throughout the whole thing.  
  
Everybody loves Emily. Some people love her more than they love me and that is okay. I’m totally fine with all that. She smiles and then puts her hand over mine, and I hold her hand tight, making her blush. Fan service. She’s really good at these things. The things that make the fans go wild. The things that make the cameras go flashing at us in an instant.  
  
∞  
  
After the whole press conference thing, I start in on convincing Jimmy to let me borrow his Cayenne. I tell him that I had something really important to tell Emily in person. He says that I could have told her right after we finished with the press, and I keep saying that I forgot. Eventually, he gives in.  
  
Thirty minutes later, I find myself once again, waiting right outside of Club Red. It says that it opens at nine in the evening so I have no choice but to wait across the road for another thirty minutes or so.  
  
Being stuck in this car is not the best thing in the world, but I’ll have to manage. I figure I could go and read whatever I could find in Jimmy’s car. US Weekly, huh? Great. This is probably Estefania’s. What a stupid and careless, woman. She and Jimmy just met and now she’s leaving magazines in his car.  
  
I put my head over the steering wheel and thought I could use the nap.  
  
Next thing I know, a guy was banging on my window, waking me from my slumber. I recognize this man, he was the same bouncer from last night. I frown at him but he smiles coolly as he says “Coming in for seconds, huh?” before giving me a wink and letting me in.  
  
He is definitely one creepy shit. I look around and the bartender starts talking to me again. Now I realize what he meant by people don’t tell. Not that I’m here. But because they think that all this time, Ian Jackson was gay, since I’m here and all. He has that look on his face and so I say, “Problem?”  
  
He smiles and knowingly says, “Nope, here.” A shot of whiskey. He should know better. I take it anyway, drinking it all in one go.  
  
“I’m actually looking for that guy, the one from last night.” Mister Big Bartender laughs sarcastically when he says that he does not remember every single one honey. Honey. Fuck off. I had to stay chill if I wanted to get his name, at least. I mean Blue Eyes, not this fat fucking bartender trying to kill my mood. “But he is very unforgettable. He’s got these really blue eyes, piercing and his arms, were, built, whatever. Oh and his very, well, probably this short,” I raise my hand to indicate how short I meant, “I don’t know, I can hardly remember.”  
  
“Unforgettable, huh? You can’t even tell how short he was, your words, not mine,” I could hear Mister Big bartender snickering as he fills me with another shot.  
  
“I was fucking tipsy and everything was kinda hazy,” I hissed.  
  
“Okay. Chill, hon.” He leaves me for a minute to serve another man, a man who was eyeing me non-stop but I don’t give him the luxury of knowing I was checking him out, so I focus on my drink up until he left. “You know, I was not actually surprised you came last night because, come on, 18, no real girlfriend?”  
  
I know what’s going on with my life, thanks for the update, big guy. He keeps on talking. “That army cut hair of yours from your ‘boy next door’ cutie side-swept hair doesn’t make you any less gayer. Believe me. By the way, I think you should grow your hair, it looks better grown long. Yeah, that cute look of your will be back in a month or two. And God, that Emily? I don’t think you like her. She, though, looks madly in love with you and I don’t even know why when you’re here looking for him.”  
  
“What him?” I look around and see what he meant, or rather, who. His dark brown almost black hair is smoothly combed back looking nice and all. I’m not so sure if I love this look on him, or the one from one last night, when his hair was kind of messy. But then again, who am I to remember the exact details from last night, right? He is wearing a black striped button down shirt that is hugging his arms. I can tell that it was his arms, the ones that carried me from last night. Why did he bring me to that hotel, though?  
  
Then I look up and I see his eyes, that dazzling pair of blue eyes that resemble a cloudless sky. No, they look even better. He is only a couple of feet away and it’s taking me everything not to just go over. Because then what would I do? What would I say? Besides, he looks fine drinking alone. Like he’s having all the fun and freedom in the world, not minding what anyone was going to say, if anyone was going to say anything. Suddenly, I feel jealous of him. I feel envious because he gets to do all these things so freely and I, I just couldn’t. I’d trade my soul to the devil just so I could be as free as him.  
  
I take another shot of whiskey because I feel like I did not have the right to keep on staring at him. But my head thinks that fuck rights, he is beautiful and perfect and so I shall stare at him.  
  
When I faced his direction again though, he was already with another guy. And not just another guy, I must say. It was the guy who was ogling at me earlier. Moved on so quickly, huh? They are, wait, what are they doing? Is that dancing? Is that ugly looking thing trying to do my signature robot dance? Seriously, I can dance better than that. Okay, Blue Eyes is laughing and boy does he look beautiful with that laugh and then oh. They are kissing. Fuck.  
  
I quickly take a couple of bills from my wallet. I had to do look away. Mister Big Bartender has got this smirk on his face like he just won over something too precious. “You are such a slowpoke, honey.”  
  
I scowl at him as I manage to say, “Keep the fucking change,” before I storm out of the club.


	4. Strangers on a Train

The entertainment world gets real crazy, especially when you have a movie to promote. And of course, with a manager like Jimmy Steve, everything is just through the roof, and not in a good happy way. He has the most random and oddest ideas that are too fucked up. Really. This is my second movie with Emily, excluding all the other ones that we were casted off as friends or siblings. The first one was when we were both thirteen. This rarely happens, I mean, think Sandra Bullock and Keannu Reeves. They did Speed 2 in I don’t know, sometime in the 90’s and then there’s The Lake House which they did after almost a decade.  
  
 _I think we both are lucky to have this projects keep coming in, and the fans who keep supporting us both us a pair, and individually. ___  
  
That line has been etched on my head since five years ago. I play with the words, but when the interviewer asks me anything close to how Emily and I feel being this famous at such a young age, that is basically my answer. And that is exactly what I tell the woman interviewing me right now.  
  
“So the story is about, well, ‘Strangers on a Train’. But what do you think makes the movie unique? I mean, how does it differ from your previous movie with Emily, or with the thousands of other love stories, both on tv and films,” she looks straight at me as she waits for my answer.  
  
I clear my throat before I answer. “Uh, I uh, I think that this time, Emily and I are more mature, so you know, we get to do more things and we were able to touch sides and topics that we weren’t able to four, or five years ago.” The interviewer nods, signaling me to go on. “Also, I think what I love the most about the movie is the development of the characters, from chance encounters to ‘hey you’re that guy from the train’ and it just evolves into something really beautiful and getting on that train to go somewhere alone, and getting off with someone, and that someone has pretty much changed your life and suddenly you’re heading to the same place together. You know what I’m saying,” I laugh faintly. I think I just said too much. Whatever, this has to end.  
  
She shakes hands with me and of course, a pho op. I head to my assigned dressing room and Jimmy was right there, waiting for me with a grin on his face, “Job well done, alright, next stop, LA Union Train Station.”  
  
I almost forgot we were doing this. “Do I really have to?” I complained.  
  
“Yes, and don’t even try getting out of this. Okay, so remember the plan well. Go to LA Union, you got that Blake Lively clip from Gossip Girl I got you, right?” I nod at him as I put my jacket on. “Yeah, you go and do that there, just look lost or something, get on board the 6 o’clock train and then get off at the second stop.”  
  
“Got it.” Or at least I think.  
  
“Easy peasy, right?” he beams.  
  
“Whatever, just be sure to be there or I’m never attending the next five press junkets,” I retorted.  
  
“I’ll pick you right where you get off.”  
  
I hate these things, publicity stunts and whatnots. Since when were trailers and interviews never enough to sell a fucking movie? Of course, I don’t ask Jimmy because I’d end up having to listen to his usual two-hour rant.  
  
∞  
  
There’s a guy with a camera right out front of LA Union. Could he be any more obvious? He’s got geeky glasses on and thin body wrapped up in brown coat over his black sweater. I don’t have to look twice to tell that it was Matty, the biggest IanxEmily shipper-slash-paparazzi in the world. I bet he’s on cloud 9 right now that he got paid to do this once in a lifetime photo op. No, I bet he already was right when Jimmy called him. That man sure knows how to pick his colleagues.  
  
Patience, Ian Jackson. The thought of my name makes me cringe. I have been saying this bullshit since forever and it sickens me. I wish I could drop my last name just like Emily, but it’s been there since I was a kid. Everybody knows me by Ian Jackson and I have no choice but to go by it. I suddenly wonder what my real last name could be. Then I figured, whatever, it does not really matter. Besides, I have a train to get on board to.  
  
It’s a busy Friday on the station and everybody is excited to be heading back home. There are still a number of people who notice me though. I politely smile at them, nod and stuff, exchanging pleasantries like taking about the goddamn weather and how “it was just a beautiful day to take the train.” Jimmy should be a writer. He makes shit sound so real and the ones around me are just nodding along.  
  
I was about to take my seat when this old woman comes in the last minute. So I let her sit. Not part of the plan, but definitely good, right? Matty should be doing his job and take pictures right now. I stay right where I was standing and try to avoid looking directly at someone. I turn a little to my right and then there he was. He is probably eight or ten feet away from me. Him. He is facing outside so he does not really notice me.  
  
It has been three days since I saw him, not that I was keeping track on anything. It has been three days since I laid eyes on him laughing at Club Red. It has been more or less seventy-two goddamn hours since I saw him kissing that ugly looking thing.  
  
I keep myself form going back to that awfully disturbing yet inviting image. The thought of him and his lips and how it could possibly feel against mine keeps haunting me. No. I really should stop thinking about that. Another thing that has been bothering me is how I badly want to ask him about that stuff he wrote on the paper. What really happened that night, or if that was really him in the first place.  
  
Just as I was about to walk closer, someone nudges me from behind, a young blonde girl probably twelve, asking for my autograph. I felt pissed at first but I realized it was actually better, because I knew Matty was just a couple of meters away. I quickly gained composure and smiled at the girl, who also asked for a selfie with me. Another add to the stunt. Nice.  
  
The doors dinged open and I get off, Matty follows soon after and heads somewhere I don’t even care to know. I just notice that the Blue Eyes from the club was still in his inside, and I am still standing like an idiot, gazing at him in hopes that he would face me. He doesn’t. Though he looks up and around and jumps off at the very last second right before the doors close. I quickly turn around to leave in a really fast pace. This is not part of the plan and talking to a random dude and asking about that night was not something I’d like for Matty to take a picture of.  
  
This guy is so stalking me. Blue Eyes, not Matty. Well yeah, Matty, too, but he is crazy and he’s paid to do so. This guy, there must be a reason. And there’s just something about him that draws me closer to him. He is danger, I’m almost sure about it, and I just let him pull me in.  
  
∞  
  
I still haven’t talk to neither Sheila nor Eddie, and I would like for that to stay that way. They have been calling me, leaving voice and text messages but I have never answered. They must feel really bad, losing me and Karen both on the same night. But to be really honest, I am still too fucking pissed about the whole lying to actually give a fuck about their feelings.  
  
Jimmy tells me that the netizens’ reaction to the whole train thing was cool. I ask him about Emily’s share on the stunt and he says that he’s already told Svetlana about it and that we should just leave the girls with their thing. But I need to know, best friend or not, we still have to do our equal parts for the movie. Then he says something like “No, we still have other issues to handle. Parent issues.”  
  
We are silent for a bit then he rambles on the importance of parents and the train trip and I still could not stop thinking about Blue Eyes. God, I need to at least know his name. Calling him Blue Eyes is just too gay, even for me. It’s too much. So I eventually give in to Jimmy. “Fine. Dinner tomorrow, I just gotta go somewhere now.”  
Jimmy argues about it at first but of course, I always get it my way. I find myself on the bus to West Hollywood, then I hopped on a cab to Club Red. What the fuck am I doing? Why am I going back there, to torture myself some more? Like seeing him plunging his tongue down that man’s throat is not enough to kill me? And the jealousy of seeing those people so free? And why is my car still at the fucking tow away place?  
  
All those questions keep running on my head until I realize I was finally at the place. I head to the entrance and this time, the bouncer just lets me in without the winks and the small talks. Busy guy, huh? Good. I was getting my fist ready if he was thinking of sending me another gay signal or shit. Coz even though we were both gay, I would never do him and God, his eyes, and his face, he looks like that kid’s father from the first Ice Age movie.  
  
I take my usual seat at the bar and Mister Big Bartender starts talking. “Took you 3 days, huh?”  
  
“What?”  
  
He shrugs and says, “Nothing. I’m Tommy, and here is your drink.” I take it from him and then he goes on gabbing, “I am very gay. Jody, the bouncer, is a really cool dude once you get to know him. Kinda gay.” He looks at him adoringly and most probably wishing Jody was really gay.  
  
“Wow, is there like a test after this?” I snort.  
  
Tommy straightforwardly comes back with, “You’re gonna want me to go on, buddy.”  
  
I chuckle, “Yeah, I doubt that,” right before gulping down my drink.  
  
“Mickey, 20, fresh from Chicago,” he gives me an ‘I got you’ look. I ask him what he was saying even though I am very sure what he was talking about. “The guy you undressed with your eyes three nights ago.”  
  
I raised a brow at him. “I thought you don’t remember everything?”  
  
“Not everything, just the ones that excite me,” he smirks right back at me.  
  
“Of course I excite you, I am Ian Jackson, after all. And for the record, I wasn’t undressing him. I’m really—,” I was going to say ‘not that into him’, a lie I had to finish my sentence with until he speaks.  
  
“Hey, Tommy, Jody asked for you,” Blue Eyes, no, Mickey says before I catch him sending Tommy a wink. Yes, the wink was for Tommy but I fucking saw it and it made me feel things and seriously, this guy is either too good to be true or everything right now is just a sweet recurring dream.  
  
Tommy leans over the counter. “Have fun, Mr. Jackson. He then whispers into my ear “He’ll be here until 2:30 in the morning.” I flip him off subtly, in a way that the new bartender won’t see it, just because I can.  
  
∞  
  
It is almost two in the morning and I learned from watching too much of Neil Patrick Harris on How I Met Your Mother that nothing good happens after 2 A.M. But then again, my mind is too fogged right now and his eyes are too beautiful, so I don’t really mind staying and drinking some more as I stare at him. This is probably the most drunk I’ve ever been without the need to puke and all, but I still remember some other important things. My new address, that I am adopted, hence the new address, and Jimmy Steve and his name both suck. Oh, and that Mickey Blue Eyes leaves at two-thirty in the morning. Wait, isn’t that a title of a song or I don’t know, a movie?  
  
Anyway, I head out and the cold December air chills me to the bones. I start lighting up the second to the last cig I got from my jacket pocket. Smoking in cancer is never a good thing, but it helps me sober up at times, so yeah. It’s five minutes until his time off and I almost feel like shit. I’ve been drinking for hours and now I’m out in the snow waiting for a him. Yeah, definitely shitty. I try to act cool, but for some reasons, my brain has frozen up and forgotten all the lessons I’ve learned in Madam Lomax’s workshop, may her soul rest in peace. Oh shit he’s coming out and fuck, okay, he sees me.  
  
He marches closer, smiles and says, “Got some more of that?” I don’t even know where to start about what just happened. I mean, this is really happening and I am so full of shit.  
  
I remember that I am running out of cigarettes and so I just say, “Yeah, here,” as I grab the last stick and hand it to Mickey. I take my lighter and lights it for him while he put his right hand over the stick to protect it from the wind. I could feel our fingers brush lightly so he quickly put the lighter back in my pocket and wear my gloves.  
  
“Cab?”  
  
I look up at him, “Sorry, what?” Did he just say cab, or train? Because my brain feels like believing that it was train and is still pretty hard on the idea that he is stalking me.  
  
Mickey smiles, and God it feels so good knowing that finally he is smiling at me. Not at Tommy, not at that ugly looking douche, but at me. “I’m taking a cab. You?”  
  
I manage to answer him without stuttering. “Oh yeah, sure, I mean, me, too.” At least I think I did.  
  
∞  
  
We are both on a cab now, me on my way to Chateau Marmont and him, well, I really have no idea. I will find out when he gets off. I hope he gets off before I do. This is the closest we’ve ever been with him sitting at my right side. I feel suffocated, but in a really good way, if that is even possible. “I don’t know about you but this really feels like becoming a thing for me, you know, you and me?”  
  
Yes, because you’re stalking me. I don’t say that, of course, but I don’t know just how exactly once answers that kind of direct statement without ruining things, not that there was something to ruin between him and me.”So it’s really you, huh? That night when I, when I—“  
  
“Got drunk and puked all over me?” he laughs it off and adds, “yeah, hope you didn’t mind Motel Carlo. It’s the closest I got before running out of bills. I’m Mickey, by the way.” He reaches his right hand and I shake hands with him for what felt like forever, but it was most likely just a second or two. “And yeah, of course, I know who you are.”  
  
How does he act so cool? And since when did he start bartending there? When just three nights ago, well four, now that it’s another day, not that I’m keeping a record or something, he was busy making out with that assface. And he ran out of bills, shit, I have to fucking pay him. “You ran out of bills? Uh, how much do I owe you?” I quickly start fishing my back pocket for my wallet, but he’s just as quick to stop me.  
  
“Dude, it’s cool, I mean, I have my card, and I tried talking to the driver, convincing him to at least take you to a real hotel, but he started acting up, so yeah,” and he smiles again. “Seriously, man, don’t worry about it.” Okay, now I’m confused. One night, he’s got his tongue down another man’s throat and the next he’s talking ‘street’ and ‘ghetto’ and in a way, too manly-sounding.  
  
“Okay then.” We’re quiet for a couple of seconds before it starts turning into minutes. Then I just had to blurt it out in the open. “Yeah, you left a note, or something?”  
  
“I did?” he tilts his head slightly to the right. Okay, now I’m confused. Like what the fuck, I thought we just established that it was you from that night? “Right, I thought we’d never meet again, so my name didn’t really matter and it was either that or ‘I had fun’ and you might have gotten me killed or something, so yeah.” He chuckles as he finishes his statement with, “Bad joke.”  
  
“Very,” I calmly say, but on the inside, I am throwing grand pianos right through the glass windows of my heart because this man sure knows just what to say. I could see that there’s a look on his face, an audible eye roll that I try to slide but it hits me hard so I ask him, “What?”  
  
“Nothing. So you’re straight?” Isn’t gaydar like a thing every gay has? He should be able to tell. Or maybe he’s playing me, like this is a part of a grandiose scheme he has going on since the first night I saw him.  
  
“What do you fucking think?” I didn’t want to be mean, but my heart was still too dazed from what I saw nights ago and how he acts real cool right now.  
  
“That you aren’t? I mean, you’ve probably been to Club Red three times this week,” he shrugs. I hate how I notice every little thing he does, really. But I have seen everything outside and there is nothing much to see inside the cab, so I just glance at him once in a while.  
  
I ask him how he knows, even though I’m once again convinced that this man is stalking me.  
  
“God, you’re Ian Jackson, people notice.”  
  
“Yeah, but Tommy says you don’t tell.”  
  
“No one’s around, right?”  
  
I glance up at the rearview mirror to see the driver and he looks like he does not give the slightest shit and that he just wants to take us to our place and get paid. He did not even show a tiny amount of sign that he was listening when Mickey mentioned my name seconds ago. “Whatever.” He bites his lower lip and smiles before telling me that he’ll get off at the next two blocks and that he could pay me back for the cigarette. “You’re joking right?” I mean, does he actually think I’d get off the bus with him? And for what, a cigarette stick? Seriously.  
  
“Well, see you tomorrow then?” he sounds hopeful and something inside me bubbles up. Probably my liver, or some wandering spleen.  
  
“Make it two sticks and I’m in,” and we both laugh faintly at that. I was never good at spur-of-the-moment things. I don’t know what’s about to happen, but something tells me that I’ll be fine. My phone rings and I’m very sure that it is Jimmy. Fuck him.  
  
When the laughter dies down, Mickey decides to speak up again and kills me with his words. “I like you, Ian Jackson.” Who doesn’t? There’s something with the way he said it though. Danger. Like thunder signaling me that a huge rainstorm was about to come any second now. He grins as the cab stops at a red light.  
  
We’ll both be getting off together at the next stop, and we’ll be like Hilary and Josh of Strangers on a Train, getting in as strangers, although we kind of already knew each other before we got in. Then we would both be getting off together and heading at the same direction. Everything perfectly fits that storyline until I could feel his lips warm on my right cheek. And of course, he hops off the cab just right after the light signals the driver to go, allowing his self to have a really slick exit. The door slams close and fuck. He just kissed me. And yeah, he’s gone, too.


	5. Simple Pleasures

I should be feeling ecstatic right now. Jimmy Steve and I are inside one of the two elevators of the highly praised Sierra Towers. We are on our way to my new home but instead of feeling really excited, I don’t.  
  
Not that my heart has become a stone since the whole me being adopted thing. As much as I try to deny it, I know I feel something towards that Mickey blue eyes person, which brings me back to the very reason why I don’t feel as excited as I should be. To him, it must have been something he’s grown accustomed to do so, friend or no friend. But to me, it’s more than that.  
  
I remember every single thing from last night, or well, from today’s wee hours. Me being spontaneous, me and him laughing, him saying how he liked me, him kissing my cheek, me frozen, him leaving me still frozen, me still frozen until the driver says that we’re already in front of Chateau Marmont, which tells me how stupid I was for not being able to check out where he got off. It has been playing on my head, on repeat. And I hate myself every time I get to the part where he kisses me and I just stay frozen, because I know it was nice, I mean the kiss. It’s just that everything from then on sucked big time.  
  
Nevertheless, a part of me is still celebrating for Jimmy found me just the perfect place to move in to. “The manager says that the celebrities around here are cool, you know, holding the doors open for you and stuff like that.” That is nice to know. I would like to see that happen. “This place is amazing, God, I’d make a deal with the devil just so I could hear these walls talk, the secrets it holds from all the past owners and rockstars and just, wow!”  
  
“Yeah, sell your evil soul to your evil Daddy,” I said with a laugh.  
  
I’m at 27B. Looks amazing, God, I knew Chateau Marmont was crazy and living there was just a silly idea, but hells yeah, I’m going to miss their service. Okay, not really. I’m just glad I finally have a steady place to stay.  
  
Two hours later, I am in down into nothing but my boxers. I listen to Emily as I put my phone in loudspeaker mode. She keeps bugging me and goes on trying to convince me to hang out because she misses me and stuff. I really don’t know what happened with her and Selena, definitely not Bieber, that was definitely another girl, not my best friend. Because Emily’s crazy and all, but she’s not the mistress type. She says her life is too colorful enough to get into those fucked up relationships.  
  
She tells me that I should be at this party and I should pick her up at seven, “wear something dashing.”  
  
I tell her that, “yeah, I’ll spend a really long time to show my luxurious mane.” She suggests that I go fuck myself to which I quickly reply with, “I will.”  
  
“Make sure to wash your hands and wear some fucking cologne,” Emily notes.  
  
“Yes, mother.” I have once again replied without putting a thought in it. You just dug your own grave, Ian.  
  
“Speaking of mothers, have you—,” she starts saying and I just have to cut her off.  
  
“Goodbye, Emily.” I end the call just because.  
  
∞  
  
I head to the shower when my phone rings again, my voice saying “too busy wild guessing who my real parents are and where so uh, yeah, just leave your effin’ message.” Jimmy leaves a message saying: _dinner tonight with your Dad, Cicada Restaurant, 6pm, Matty will be two tables away. And change your fucking message on the answering machine, goddamn. Alright, see you at tomorrow’s meeting. ___  
  
Jesus Christ. Really. How much does Matty get with all these crap?  
  
I put a black top on and I don’t even bother combing my hair properly. Swish and flick, and yeah, that’ll do. Then I drive the service car that Jimmy got me to the said dinner with quote Dad unquote place. It was supposedly with a driver, but God, I am eighteen, I will drive as much as I fucking want to.  
  
I step into the brightly-dimmed location and the usher takes me to where Eddie is seating. I eye Matty who was sitting at the corner two tables away, just as Jimmy told me, so I give Eddie a quick hug. Isn’t that what Matty is here for? I take my seat and say in a really monotonous voice, “Sheila not here?”  
  
“Please don’t speak of your mom that way. And you know she can’t leave the house,” he speaks ever so calmly.  
  
“Three things, she’s not my Mom, you’re not my Dad, and seriously, what do you want to talk about? Do I have to like, meet with a lawyer or something, have a temporary restraining order thing made?” I arch my brow at him.  
  
“You should really come back home, son.”  
  
I snap back at him. “Stop that, Christ, you make me sick.” God, right, Matty was there the whole time. So I crack my knuckles and tell him that we should just get this over with. I end up just finishing a glass of wine before I decide to leave Eddie. “I’ll let Jimmy drop by next Saturday to pick up my stuff. The ones I bought myself with my acting money. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”  
  
I am back in the silver Forbes Doge Dart in no time. I make a little detour to Emily’s place before heading off to Hyde Lounge. She is wearing a sleeveless top, with the glitter and everything, and paired it off with black tight jeans and silver heels. A tad bit too Beyonce for me, to be honest.  
  
We get to the party venue in more or less fifteen minutes and how the fuck did Matty even get here before us? He’s a fucking creep.  
  
I know I did not eat back at Cicada, but I am very sure I am not going to eat here neither. Basic rule, always have a drink in hand. This way, people won’t be like ‘hey, I should get you a drink’ making you unable to say no, ending up drunk, and your face all over the internet in less than an hour.  
  
I catch up with some people, I see Selena but of course, Emily is not with her. Where is Emily, by the way? She makes me come and then leave me here with wait, who are you again? Not important, apparently. I excuse myself and see the number of other elites in the crowd. Some people I have read from the paper, when I travel and just fail to bring a book or two. There are a couple of other Disney products, too. Demi, looking fantastic, and I remember her role in and how amazing she is. Is that Danielle Campbell? I heard she’s nice and all, but we have never really been introduced. And oh, there she is, my wonderful best friend who got me here in the first place, asking for me to go over and dance with her. Perfect.  
  
∞  
  
Three uneventful hours later and we are back at my new place, with me sitting on one end of the couch while Emily is sprawled all over the rest of the couch with her head on my lap. “By the way, you’re always busy. You barely pick up my calls. And jimmy, oddly, does not know where to find you lately. Do I not know something?”  
“You don’t know everything about me, Emily,” I stated with my eyes glued on whatever we were watching. She goes on and on about it, asking me if I have a new best friend, or maybe even a girlfriend and oh my God why does she not know all these. “Look, there’s no one, God, I’m just hanging a lot at random bars because you know how we can’t frequent a certain place that much.” A rule I have been breaking. A lot.  
  
“Well, okay, then…,” she drags the last word as she sits up and makes me face her, “start talking.”  
  
“Didn’t I just explain my invisibility just now?”  
  
“No, yeah, but I mean, your Mom, or just Sheila, and Eddie, and the whole Karen thing. Come on.” What do I tell her to stop? I’m still not sure what I feel? I mean, I acted some sort of way with Eddie earlier but sometimes, I’m too preoccupied with other things that I just forget about the whole Sheila-Eddie thing, and now Emily’s bugging me and if I don’t say anything, she will never stop. “Ian.”  
  
“Fine, alright, I met with Eddie earlier, just talked a little, for dinner, or something.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And that’s it? Yeah, I told him I was gonna tell Jimmy to pick my things up for me next Saturday, maybe,” I beamed just so she would drop it already. She frowns at me a bit so I say, “I’m okay, really. It’s fucked up, but I’ll manage.”  
  
She nods and smiles back at me, telling me that it will be alright. Yeah, it’s perfect, so far. “I kinda always knew.”  
  
“Excuse me?” I suddenly feel myself glowering at her. Like, she kinda knows about me being adopted this whole time? What kind of fucked up shit is this?  
She notices the anger on my face and she was quick enough to say, “Oh God, no, I don’t mean know about you.” Huh? What then? Speak or I’m throwing you out of place. “I uh, my name? Mandy? I always knew.” Oh. Okay. I don’t say anything because God, what do I say, right? She goes on explaining. Emily says she was around five and of course, she knew her name and it seemed weird at first, but she got used to it eventually. “It helped me forgot about them, my family. I was just a kid so there was nothing much to forget. There’s one shitty memory though, and I am still not so sure if it’s good or bad or whatever, but he was saying my name, _‘you’ll be okay, Mandy. I’ll come visit you. Soon.’ ___He never did. That’s why I asked my Dads to change my name. That name is a horrible, I remember my real Dad saying he named me after one of his favorite songs, I don’t even know why, but those were really rare times when he’s really happy and sober.” I could see a couple of tears running down her face already, but knowing Emily, I let her be. I’m not the comforting type anyway. She finishes her story off with, “It’s an ugly word and it reminds me of him and his promise.”  
  
And here I thought my life sucked. Bad real dad, huh? “At least you knew. My family could be eating whatever shit to survive while I am living well in my new condo. Not that I give a shit, I mean, they gave me up in the first place.”  
  
She wipes her tears with the back of her hand, kind of like how a young kid does when she is given another balloon after her first one flew away. Then we laugh because there’s nothing else to do but that.  
  
∞  
  
Emily ends up sleeping on my bed, leaving me still wide awake at one in the morning. I could slip out and rush to the Club, but then Emily will be asking me tons of stuff in the morning, leaving her and whatever.  
  
Besides, what will I do in that place? Have bunch of gay dudes eye fuck me and just sit there. Yes, I’ll see those blue eyes and his hair that I’ve been dying to feel against my fingers and shit, what am I thinking? No. this is just crazy. I just had tad bit too much to drink.  
  
So what if he left me like that. What if he kissed my cheek? What if I felt his soft lips etch a burning feeling that sank right into my heart? That doesn’t mean I already like him, right? Or that he actually likes me, like he said he does, most especially after seeing him with that dude. It’s just that no one has ever pulled a shit like that to me that my brain is fucked up afterwards. How could someone trick me like that? Me? Ian Jackson! But then again, after the whole me being adopted, everyone probably thinks they could just trick me too easily. And for some fucked up reasons, fate just lets them play with me.  
  
If seeing him for the first time felt like a boy meets girl movie, in our case, meets boy, then this right now feels like a shitty closing to documentary film. Some actor who is falling for some random stranger, for this boy from the club, and as it appears, not having a happy ending.  
  
It is so ironic how my life is the exact opposite of all the films I have ever done. Being an actor does not really mean that my life would go like the movies. Fairy tale finales and golden pots over at the end of the rainbow, colorful shits like those are too nice to happen in real life, most especially not to me.  
  
But then I figure, so what, right? I’m still human? And if the sight of him makes me happy, if the mere thought of him ignites me, then so be it. I’ll indulge myself to these simple pleasures before I lose the chance. I mutter a low “fuck it” before I deciding to leave behind the sleeping Emily, grab my jacket and use the service car to Club Red.  
  
When I get there, I will see him and he sees me, and we, _we’ll just know it_. Simple pleasures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted this sooner than I planned because I got a comment for the first time. Yay! :) Comment some more. xx


	6. Order Room Service

“I must say, Ian, you’re really loving this place, huh? Or are you just hanging out for Mick?” Tommy speaks as soon as I got by the bar to take my usual seat. I ask him to just give me a shot of vodka. “Just so you know, he won’t be here. He’s got Saturdays off.”  
  
Right, it’s almost two in a Sunday morning. Nice. Well, so much for simple pleasures. “Whatever, I’m not here for him.” Okay, now I’m getting good at this lying thing.  
  
Tommy responds in a sing-song voice, “whatever you say~” Okay, maybe not that good.  
  
However, around thirty minutes later, Mickey arrives all drunk and crazy blasting with his stories of ‘the best night ever! “Then out of the blue, a kiss and he totally died, I told you, right? He loses it and—”  
  
I was staring at him for too long, trying hard to listen in over the loud music, that I did not realize he was with a man, but he still went on blabbing to Tommy about his quote best night ever unquote. Yeah, with that odd dude who could have passed as your Uncle, if only he was white. I wonder how it would go wrong. Sarcasm, my last hope in how to have fun this painful world. Whatever happened to that shitface you were tonguing your life away a couple of nights ago, huh?  
  
It seems as if he does not notice me, at all, so I go on staring and listening at his voice and how his accent somehow turns me on. Okay, forget the last part. “So yeah, he thought we were gonna go to—”  
  
But my mouth decided to screw my hiding in the shadows of Club Red’s strobe lights. “You’re here.” At least I managed to say it without giving away any hint of anything, because I wasn’t feeling anything. I was just surprised seeing him here when it’s his day off. Okay, that’s it, I was just surprised, nothing else.  
  
“Ian!” he looks surprised, too. Like he’s never seen me here before. Fucker. Like he did not kiss me before jumping of the cab. Whatever. “Oh, yeah, this is Kash. Yeah, you know Ian. Uhm, were you here the whole time? When I was talking about—”  
  
“Your best night ever? Yeah. I was actually barely able to stop myself from puking all over this counter. No offense, Kash, I bet it’s your best night ever, too.” Where did that come from? I swear to God, I have never heard myself sound like that before. I think my mouth has my brain on hostage right now and is just taking control over the rest of my body, feeling like reckless seems to be fun for my stupid mouth.  
  
“Not anymore!” Kash has this accent as he speaks. I am not sure, but it feels like he’s toned it down, so he won’t sound like an angry Indian all the time. Dots, not the feathers. What is up with him and having to use too much gel or something? Did he put some on his thick brows, too? “Sorry darling, but meeting Ian Jackson in person definitely trumps every other moment in yo—” and Kash’s face winces and he makes a noise before he says “our life. Jesus!” Oh, he’s Christian?  
  
“What’s wrong?” not that I was worried, my mind is too busy thinking about something else anyway.  
  
“Nothing, the emotions are just too much to handle,” he kids. I let out a fake laugh. Gay fucker. And I take a glimpse of Mickey, not in his uniform. I like him like this, in a black button up top, and a pair of nice jeans, and is that him? The smell. No, I don’t know, this is a bar and I bet even that Jody dude wears a lot of cologne. Whatever. It must be their special night or something.  
  
Mickey asks Kash to dance. Kash asks me to join but I’m really not in the mood to dance right now. Not that I ever was. So I just stare at them and their ugly mating ritual dance shit, my eyes piercing through Mickey’s every move when I hear Tommy chime in, “Not here for him, huh? Here, it’s on me. I know how you feel.”  
  
You don’t. But it’s rude to turn down a drink, right?  
  
∞  
  
A couple more shots later, and Kash passes out. Really? But then again, who am I to talk, right? Mickey looks worried. Why wouldn’t he? I mean, boyfriends worry, right? And I’m there, and Kash is definitely not my most favorite person in the world right now, but he’s worrying mine, so I offer to take him to the car.  
  
Motherfucker is heavy as shit.  
  
I listen as Mickey instructs me just where to go, what roads to take. Of course, he knows Kash’s place that well.  
  
W get inside the sleeping man’s place, all the Muslim-y things, and oh, just a friend? That’s out of the blue, Mickey, but really good to know. But who knows, he could just be making that up. I’m still feeling kind of happy.  
  
The thought pops into my head. It’ll be just me and Mickey in my car, and damn it, I am so fucking excited! Or scared? Nervous? It’ll be just me and him? Oh dear God, and what? “I said I have to stay. I have to make sure Kash is okay. I mean, I invited him to come with me to Red in the first place.”  
  
Friends my fucking ass. “Alright,” I nod at him. Fine. “It’s almost daylight anyway and I gotta go check Emily, she kinda crashed in my pad last night.” Job well done, stupid mouth. I think I see something in Mickey’s eyes, but I’m not too sure. Maybe it’s just the booze. Maybe I’m just hallucinating. Or maybe I feel like I see something because that’s what I have been waiting to see, that my imaginations just crashed and collided with reality. I have to fucking go.  
  
∞  
  
Emily is still asleep when I get to my place. Good. I normally just have coffee in the morning, and God, I need one now, actually. However, Emily will be all motherly on me, especially now that I’m basically motherless, so I decide to call room service.  
  
“Yeah, whatever, waffles and yeah, do you have iced cappuccino? Yeah, that’d be perfect. Thank you.” Emily wakes up and I notice how she is wearing one of my blue long-sleeved shirts “You really made yourself at home, huh?”  
  
“I couldn’t breathe in that outfit Svetlana made me wear. Where have you been anyways?” She walks over to sit beside me at the couch.  
  
“Out to buy some cig.” All this lying will come bite me one day and I am not so sure just yet if it’s all worth it, if _he ___is worth it. She then asks me if I really did at three in the morning. “A man’s got to tend his needs.”  
  
“Whatever, I’m starving,” she whines. I tell her that food will be up in a bit. “You eat breakfast now? About time, mister!” I chuckle because I’m only doing this since she is here.  
  
∞  
  
We’re in the middle of munching our waffles when the door buzzes. Emily keeps eating, squatting on my couch, her legs like that in nothing but her underwear and my shirt. I swear if I was straight, I’d get a boner at the sight, but thank God, I am not. She looks up at me, giving me a questioning look on her face. I tell her that I’ll go check it. I see through the peephole that it’s none other than my brilliant manger. “It’s Jimmy. Should I just—”  
  
“Yeah, he’s cool,” she states before she goes back to eating. “These things are the best!”  
  
Jimmy was saying something that I really don’t get as he gets inside. “God, what took you so long?” I was about to answer, if it wasn’t for Matty who followed him in. “Uhm, come in? Jimmy, the fuck is he doing here?” I worry at first because this is my new and permanent place, and this creepy stalker is definitely not welcome in it. Jimmy is rambling something but I don’t care, because then I remember Emily, and shit, well, shit happens.  
  
It was too late. Matty was just right behind me, and then there’s a camera flashing one second, and the birth of a weird Emily on the next. Okay, I think the temporary restraining order should be on this freak Matty and not on Eddie.  
  
Emily is suddenly yelling, which is nothing new on camera, but seeing this, right now, in my place, it is scary. I feel like my mouth is hang open, and I’m stuck right where I’m standing. Jimmy is, too, as he stands by the telephone. I bet he was trying to check my answering message. Not anymore.  
  
Emily looks really fierce, and not Sasha fierce kind of fierce, but _I’m gonna fucking kill you ___kind of fierce. Her words, not mine. She’s got Matty trapped between here and the corner of the living room area, a scene that I believe would turn anyone on, I mean, with what she was wearing. Definitely, if it wasn’t for the murder threats and of course, the fact that her left arm is right there blocking Matty right across his neck.  
  
I let out the breath that I did not realize I was holding. “Okay, Emily, relax.” I carefully move closer because my stupid manager decides to be a pussy right now. Good thing I just moved in and there are no knifes or whatever sharp in here. “Ems, please.” I look right into her eyes as I plead. I learned that from one of the movie scenes that I did. She was breathing real fast which is no surprise, I mean, with what she’s pulling right now, who wouldn’t be breathing like her?  
  
She eventually pulls herself together and relaxes. I made her back away slowly and I see Matty scrambling and fixing his collar and his glasses. He quickly rushes away, heading to the door. “Not so fast, fucker,” Emily hisses, which makes Matty stops right on his tracks. She then orders him to delete the photo. I swear to God I have never seen Matty so heartbroken, and over what, a half naked photo of Emily?  
  
Emily texts Svetlana, probably to think of something to make Matty shut up about this whole thing. Jimmy looks like he was about to say something, but he knew better than to add fuel into the fire. Emily never looked this frightening before. Well, I guess every girl has a bitch in her. Eventually, Matty is forced to leave when Emily says he should meet Emily’s lawyer at the ground floor’s dining area. I’m very sure Matty won’t do a detour or his life will be ended by no one else but his own idol.  
  
Emily goes back to eating in peace. Okay, not disturbing me at all. This is the good thing about being an actor, being able to hide whatever you actually feel. I went on sipping from the iced cappuccino I got. Never giving away the fear I have having to sit through breakfast with these two. I don’t think I’ll be more afraid than I am right now. Not sure what scares me more, the nine tailed fox right in front of me, or the pussy pissing his own self right beside me. The fox could kill me since Matty was thrown out, and Jimmy could make me more hideous and lunatic publicity stunts to make up for the lost meeting. “Don’t worry this isn’t too weird,” Jimmy finally decides to speak.  
  
∞  
  
After the whole Matty commotion, the waters kind of calmed down and Jimmy was back to spurting out ideas. But not too much, probably still scared he might awaken the bitch in Emily’s body. Some fan-meetings here and there, Emily says she’d up to the whole showing up at some train station, kind of like what I did, and Jimmy doesn’t let her. He is obviously afraid she might actually kill someone in the train. He asks where Svetlana was, since we all know she was texting her couple of minutes ago. Emily says that she does not care since it’s her day off.  
  
“Managers don’t have day offs,” Jimmy says matter-of-factly, and without thinking about it, too.  
  
“I gave her one, just for today. Got a problem?” Jimmy was quick when he says that he should go check something. “Don’t even try calling her.”  
  
“You know what, Jimbo, I think you could use a break right now?” I try to say with a straight face. I know how Jimmy hates it when I make fun of his name. I’m very sure he’s boiling inside right now, but of course, with Emily just cooling off, he knows he couldn’t argue.  
  
“Are you even serious right—,” he starts saying and stops when Emily cuts him off with a menacing stare and so he leaves us with an ‘I give up look’ and says he’ll call me. Now I’m alone with Dr. Evil’s little bitch. Dear God, why is this happening?  
  
I calmly take stride over to the black couch and she sits next to me. “God, what a morning!”  
  
“I know, right?” No, I actually really don’t. I turn the tv on just to divert our attention. She leans her head on my right shoulder and okay, if this calms you, then carry on. She proceeds on playing and fiddling with my right hand. Yes, this is still okay. I think. Smooth, and no, not okay, definitely not okay.  
  
I was not very focused because of the whole Emily situation but I know that it was _my Taylor ___being interviewed by some perky missy. Now it’s very difficult to see with Emily blocking the view. And she is not just right in front of me, she is straddling me, with her legs on either side of my body, pressing her lips against mine. This is so much worse than what was happening earlier.  
  
“Woah, E-Emily—,” I stutter but she just laughs at me. You think I’m being cute? Fuck no.  
  
“It’s okay, Ian,” she bites her lower lips as she proudly shows me the condom she gets from the pocket of my blue shirt. When did that get there? I don’t remember buying any condom, ever. This can’t be happening? She’s basically like my sister. Well, we do kiss and stuff for the movies, but all that is for the movie! This is unacceptable and odd and the bitch inside me decides to show, too. Great. I tried getting her off me, and I don’t know if I was doing it to hard, but I was just feeling grossed out with the whole thing.  
  
She looks shocked and she could barely speak. “I, I thought…,” she starts to cry before rushing into my room. I see her putting her pants and I look away as she takes my blue top off. I waited until I felt like she already has her glittered top back on before I face her again.  
  
“Look, please, let me explain.”  
  
“There’s nothing to explain, Ian. You, you’ve been sending all these mixed and weird signals, being caring and shit and then, ugh!”  
  
Okay, mixed signals? When? Her make-up is all smeared now and no, I will not do anything about it because she’ will misunderstand. Then she’ll threaten to kill me, just like what she did to Matty. “We should talk about this, there’s a reason why—”  
  
“No! You probably think right now, that the Emily you know is actually a thug and a slut, the little childhood friend you have has grown into a devil and everything is falling apart on this Sunday morning,” more tears are falling on her face. Jesus, she just said that really well.  
  
“Not really though.” She looks up at me and waits for me to go on, so I say, “I’m gay.”  
  
She wipes her tears off her face and walks out of my unit. I hope she won’t come across anybody on her way down or she’ll end up in the list of peculiar moments that happened on the Sierra Towers elevator rides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working on the following chapters. You guys might wanna check me out on Tumblr. I'm epitome-derangedfangirl there. :D xx


	7. Like Father, Like Daughter

Now I have Emily on top of the shits I already have. We still haven’t spoken to each other since yesterday morning and it’s so hard. It’s actually harder than leaving home. Jimmy called, as he promised and asked if we were okay when he left, I lied and said yeah.  
  
A day later and everything’s fucked, I could not even go to Club Red without feeling guilty. My car came back yesterday afternoon and at night, I wanted nothing but to drive down to the club, which I did, but I couldn’t really get out of the car. I still feel bad about the whole Emily thing. I don’t know. It’s not like we’re together? She can’t really be into me, right? We’re like brother and sister! Jesus, who said being a teenage actor like me was fun.  
  
So last night, like I said, I stayed in my car and there was Mickey, heading inside the club. Hours after that, he comes out looking around, but my car is far and he looks sad, then he smiles when he sees Kash. Lying bastards. Well, so much for being my favorite person in the world.  
  
Needless to say, I got back to my condo and just went straight to bed. I remember the eerie feeling, right after the throwing Matty out, then Jimmy leaving, then Emily on me, then her walking out. It sucked. And I fell asleep thinking of Mickey’s smile when he saw Kash. It sucked even more.  
  
∞  
  
At about two in the afternoon, I wake up and see a message from Emily.  
  
 _Sorry for yesterday, p.m.s. Let’s talk over dinner? ___  
  
Oh humor me. Anyway, I wanted to tell her how happy I was that she texted. But she might misread it so I just text her:  
  
You: _sure ___  
Emily: _The Hudson, how’s 7? ___  
You: _7’s good. Seeya ___  
  
I smile as I lie back down on the bed. Crap, now I can’t go back to sleep. I figured I could take a breather, too early for some booze. I decide to just take a drive, see where I could take myself. I find myself heading over to Santa Monica, and boy, this place is just too fucking beautiful. God, it’s been years since that night Emily and I came here together.  
  
Oh, is this even for real? Ever since I met Kash, I have dumped the silly theory of Mickey staking me. But seeing him here now is just odd. That is heavy stalking! It freaks me out.  
  
Subsequently, somehow, the feeling of joy overwhelms me. I have never been the type to believe in horoscopes and such, but boy is this some crazy fate. Like, us here, us everywhere, always ending up at the same place at the same time. He’s reading a book and he looks so perfect, just like he does usually.  
  
I could not afford to disturb him so I just go on staring. Then I snap a photo of him surreptitiously. I go back to staring and then when he gets up, I follow him with my eyes where I eventually see him lining up for some cotton candy. Really? Came all the way here to read a book and cotton candy? He is so fucking cute. I never thought someone like him would exist.  
  
Want to know another shitty thing about being a child actor? Not being able to go to a normal school a.k.a. home school sucks. It basically means no gym class for me. Yes, I may have had some physical training for some film requirements before, but they’re basically crash courses, short-lived and quickly forgotten once the whole movie shoot was over.  
  
So I make a mental note to pat myself in the back when I manage to get to where Mickey was without passing out. Of course I paid the little boy who was on his way to the line saying, “Go buy yourself an ice cream okay? All yours.” 20$ and he’s quick as rabbit, running over to the ice cream stall across the line. But this is a story I’m never telling anyone, not even my favorite person in the world. “Came all the way here for cotton candy?”  
  
Mickey looks surprised. Drop the fucking act, you followed me here. “Oh yeah, old habits die hard, man.” Huh. And good comebacks, too. Scripted. It’s our turn and I offer to buy him the cotton candy. We go over to the bench and I tell him to wait a bit. My heart was just too much to handle and I keep reminding it to beat normally, one and two, one and two, stop going too fast, God. I had to get away from him for a second.  
  
I came back with a fruit shake in one hand and a can of beer in the other. “I wasn’t so sure what you wanted so I got both.” He picks the shake and I say, “Good, because I’m in no mood to have shake right now.” He tells me that he had to stay sober for his shift at four. I look at my watch and notice that I still have an hour left with him. “Wait, the club opens at 4 now?”  
  
“I did not say I was going there. I have another job.”  
  
“Oh. Okay.” Not okay. How does he look fine with two jobs? God knows if he has more. He must be using some magic soap to stay perfect because he don’t look stressed to me. Oh and I was right. That scent was his. God, could he be any gayer? Lavender. Jesus Christ.  
  
“You know what, if you were gay, I’d think that we’re on a date.”  
  
Why does he speak and say things like that without giving me a warning? I almost spit out a good amount of beer. I eventually manage to utter a low, “What?”  
  
He takes a sip from his drink before he starts explaining. “I mean, you buying me cotton candy, the shake, this cliché of a place, and seriously, I saw you pay that kid to be next to me. Definitely feels like one. You know, acting all _boyfriendy _.”__  
  
He beams and he looks to beautiful so I look away as I mutter, “There’s no such word as boyfriendy.”  
  
“Really? Whatever, it just feels that way anyway,” he stubbornly replies. I tell him to dream on. A smile appears on his face when he goes on speaking, “I was just saying, if you were, being gay isn’t bad, you know.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Whatever.”  
  
And he smiles that beautiful smile that sends butterflies into my stupid stomach, and I laugh a bit. Smooth Ian, very fucking smooth. Not so obvious, at all.  
  
∞  
  
We stay silent for a good ten minutes and 35 seconds, not that I was keeping track of time. 10 minutes 39.  
  
“So Emily?” he asks from out of nowhere.  
  
“What about Emily?”  
  
“You tell me.”  
  
“We’re on our first date and you ask about some girl?” Jesus Christ, where the fuck did that come from? And something about it hits us both, I mean, I just said that we were on a date. And not just a date, but ‘first date’, like there were many others. Honestly though, I am sort of hoping for many others. But I could feel him look away and oh, a blush building up on his face. I got you, Mickey.  
  
“Well, I wasn’t sure if this was really a date earlier.”  
  
“It is.”  
  
“Okay then.”  
  
I’ve never really dated before. Let alone with a man. And this guy right here, especially. I thought about it and oh, right. “Kash?”  
  
“I thought we’re not supposed to ask about someone else?”  
  
“Touché.”  
  
“We’re really just friends.”  
  
It’s my turn to be all “Good.”  
  
I finish my beer and I could see him shake his head a bit and mouthing an ‘unbelievable’.  
  
“Jackie’s my best friend.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
And we smile at each other and I seriously have no idea how these things go so I just go silent again. He says he has to leave for his shift, so I offer him a ride. “It’s okay.” But then he adds on, “Okay, you could take him to the bus station.” So I do.  
  
I shyly ask for his number but then he says that we’ll see each other tonight anyway, so I let it slide. The feeling of knowing that is more than enough.  
  
We arrive at the bus and we say our awkward goodbyes and I’m so glad my windows are tinted black because he kisses my right cheek once again right before he leaves. Here I am again, all frozen. And the lavender just powers its way right through my nose and into the rest of my system.  
  
∞  
  
Time went by real slow after that. I never thought seeing someone walk away would feel good and bad at the same time. Parting is really such sweet sorrow. Thanks a lot, Shakespeare. Or should I say Director Asher, for giving me that geeky Shakespeare addict role back when I was just fifteen. What makes it really good was the fact that we were going to see each other later. Hopefully, some more other times in the near future. Also, come on, staring at that nice butt is just a nice way to forget the fact that we would be apart for a little while. He’s really got some nice butt.  
  
Now I’m stuck in my car at some park, though this one is a lot different from where I was earlier. No sea, no rides, no Mickey. Just some kids and their parents and an ice cream truck. I am holding this Paulo Coelho novel with my left hand, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept, something I got from the passenger seat. I read some, but I’ve never read one of Coelho’s works, heard of him yeah. Mickey left it and I was too busy staring at him walking away to realize it.  
  
I head over one vacant bench. Five-thirty. An hour and a half. I hope no one notices me. Then I start reading.  
  
∞  
  
When I finally arrive at The Hudson, Emily is already there. I came thirty minutes late because I got caught up with the book. I don’t know what’s up with that Pilar girl. Waiting or forgetting? Move on, that’s what’s best to do. It’s not that hard. What I do know is that this is not the best way to make up with my best friend who turned up to be the devil’s daughter. But she’s smiling when I got there, so I guess everything is okay?  
  
I apologize sincerely and she tells me that she understands. She came five minutes before I did, met up with Tyler Posey and some other cool guys. Yeah, okay. She keeps talking about how cute he was. Then she says sorry again for walking out on like that, being my best friend, she should understand and not act like a bitch, and that after all, she started it. “It was the cramps talking.” Yeah, either that or the evil bitch in you, huh? But she keeps going on and she says it’s cool, we can talk about boys together now and she speaks in a really low voice, saying that it’s important to respect me, and shit and I definitely need to order now. Her motherly side is freaking me out more than ever after seeing her _dark side _.__  
  
I call for a waiter and no one notices me. God help me. She asks me how long I was gay. How long was it? “I don’t know. My whole life I guess. Maybe since Justin Timberlake.”  
  
“ Ew, no, JC Chasez.”  
  
“Are you kidding? He’s totally gay,” I announce straightforwardly. We then battle it out who was hotter and seriously, where is the goddamn waiter?  
The manager shows up saying sorry for the inconvenience, that there are a lot more customers today than the usual, and that one of their waiters decided to be late today. I got mad at first saying that it was none of my fucking business. Emily states that he should not mind me, that we’re okay, and that we need champagne because we’re celebrating freedom. I roll my eyes at her and she says “You’re my best friend, after all.”  
  
Emily goes back to the whole N’Sync debate thing. I thought we were done with this. I excuse myself because I am in no mood to talk more of Justin Timberlake.  
  
I wash my mouth in the bathroom. It stuns me that Emily did not bring my beer breath up. Tyler must be really that cute in person, huh? I go out and I hear the manager all mad saying _you’re late _and _I really don’t care _.____  
  
Then I hear him ordering the late dude to hurry up and change then take the orders for table seventeen. I head out and checked around to see where table seventeen was, if I had a nice view of what will happen next. I imagine the manager hovering over the late dude, acting angelic at the customers and being the late dude’s worst nightmare. Managers are really good at that. Restaurant managers, at least. Jimmy Steve is just hands down fucker. Except of course that freaky Sunday morning. I spot table seventeen right in the middle of a lot of other tables, right there, and great, Emily’s there. We are the lucky table. Things are shaping up really great, I must say.  
  
“Took you long enough,” Emily jokes as if I did something nasty in the bathroom.  
  
“I heard the manager talking down late dude.” I take my seat and she asks me if he looked good. “Fuck I know. I said I heard, not see.”  
  
“Ian, we can share about boy stuff now. Just tell me~,” she says in a sing-song voice.  
  
“I really didn’t see him, okay? Besides he’s taking our order, so he’ll be here in a—,” I slightly pause when I see the man coming our way and shock starts filling my entire body, “fuck.”  
  
“In a fuck?” Emily frowns at first before she goes laughing because what I said just don’t make sense, at all. She turns her back to check the man I’m staring at and, “fuck.”  
  
Fuck. What’s that supposed to mean? Did she find Mickey hot or something? Bitch he’s mine. We just had our first date. I don’t even care if you’re some freaky nine-tailed fox and blaming your period for your weird acts, that ass is mine. But the look on Mickey’s face though. God, why is it so unreadable?  
  
“Fuck,” he mutters. Okay, are we having a fuck contest here? Not literally, well, yeah, but not really. He quickly clears his throat and goes back to acting like a random and stranger waiter. “I’m sorry , it’s just crazy, I didn’t know I was serving America’s power couple. Fuck yeah, huh? Must be my lucky day. So what are you having?”  
  
He does not look at me, or at her, but at the notepad he got out of nowhere, I don’t know and I don’t care. I was too busy reading his face, then Emily for a second, then him again. I don’t understand him and the look he has on. Shock? Definitely and I’m sure it’s not the whole serving us thing. I know. He must have served other bigger artists than me and Emily. He can’t be too surprised really. But I’m sure it’s not because we’re America’s power couple either, his words, not mine. Or was it? Was he jealous now? I thought I made it clear that Emily was just my best friend?  
  
Emily orders some salad and I really was not listening to the rest. “I uh, I think that we’re good,” I say with my eyes trail at him as he leaves without any second thought. My mind wanders for a bit and then Emily got my attention. She’s still muttering ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’ every now and then. “Uh, you okay?”  
  
“Yeah, I just thought he looked like someone I knew.” I let her know that okay, we should celebrate now, just to change the topic. “What’s with you, too? I mean, just now?”  
  
“Oh, he looked familiar, too. But he was too star struck and surprised seeing us, so yeah,” I supply her with a cunning lie.  
  
“Not him then. Is it weird that one person you know looks a lot like a random stranger?” Okay, good. The awkward fuck fest is over and done.  
  
I ask her, “doppelgangers?” though I think I said it more like a statement than a question.  
  
She agrees, saying, “Yeah, wow. Crazy, right? Fucking crazy doppelgangers.”  
  
“Yeah, seems like you saw a dead man walking just now.”  
  
“More like forgotten but yeah pretty much dead to me walking man,” she scoffs.  
  
“Same diff?”  
  
“Yeah, same diff.”  
  
Our food was delivered by another waiter. What happened to Mickey? On the other hand, I should be dropping this, I mean, the way Emily acted when he saw Mickey, it looked like the devil in her was close to coming out again. But my mouth blabs on anyway. “So who did he look like?” She reveals that Mickey looked like her Dad, and my mouth is on the roll right now. “What? Didn’t look like Lanier to me, and sure didn’t have any resemblance to Cassius at all.”  
  
“I meant my real Dad. I told you, weren’t you listening the other night? I think I was five when I last saw him, he looked more drunk than he usually did, like that late waiter dude, only he was bigger and taller, drank booze more than I had ever drank milk.” I apologize and she says that it is okay. “Past is fucking past, right? I probably got the whole thug side of me from him. Shhh. He used to beat the shit out of my brothers and cousins,” she was now forking her beef a tad bit too forcefully, “most especially—”  
  
I feel sad for the beef that does not look much like a beef anymore. Plus, the people from the surrounding tables were staring so I just had to cut her little speech. “Yeah and you’re forking the shit out of that beef, come on now.” I pour some champagne into our glasses.  
  
“Like father like daughter, I guess.”  
  
I decide to change the topic again and cheerfully say, as much as I did not want to, “Okay, we’re here to celebrate my freedom remember?” We laugh a bit and clinked our glasses together.  
  
Fucked up father, huh? I feel bad for her, but good enough for me to distract myself for a while. Made me forget about the whole Mickey being there just now. Fuck. Now I hate myself for not getting his number. His kiss drives me crazy. And it’s just a fucking peck on the cheek. I hope he’s okay right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be in a couple of days. Thanks for being awesome! Kudos and comments are loved. xx


	8. The American Dream

I manage to convince Emily to move her movie plans for the night. I said that I had to go meet Jimmy first thing in the morning and that I needed some rest. Emily agrees informing me that I do look stressed out lately, which is weird since I don’t have any project as of the moment. She says that I am not Jimmy’s bitch and I say, “I know.” We laugh it off and I take her to her place.  
  
I see her two gay Dads and wonder if she’s told them about me. God I hope not. Two married gay guys hovering over me is the last thing on my list right now, with me being extremely late to a very important date on top of it. Or I don’t know, is heading over the club where the person I like bartends considered a date? I drive as fast as I could to Club Red.  
  
Whatever, at least I know that we are dating now. Or dated, once, and will most likely date again, and he basically asked me to come over, right? But then again, that was before seeing him earlier at The Hudson. Fuck, I don’t even know if he still wants to see me now? Was he mad at me? He acted like we have never really met, and I don’t know if that’s killing me or the fact that I feel like I’m actually far from being mad at him. He’s too beautiful to stay mad at. Hurt? I just don’t know and I just want to see him and good, he’s there.  
  
I get off the car and stop him, Jody gives us a knowing nod but fuck Jody, I need to talk to Mickey and I’m sure we can’t do that inside. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey,” he says looking surprised. Why does he always look surprised? “I’m kinda running late. See you in-"  
  
I grab a hold of his wrist. “Are we okay?”  
  
His face softens and he smiles that beautiful smile, “Of course we are.” And with that, the worry that I have in my heart easily makes its way to oblivion in a split second. I then let go of his arm, realizing I have been holding it for too long.  
  
∞  
  
It feels different now compared to all the previous times I came. I usually come alone, head over the bar, and look around for him, if he’s around. Now, we came in together and with me being sure that he is around, I don’t know what to do next anymore. Stay at the bar? Stare at him work? Definitely can’t stare at the others. God, they look too gay. Whatever, they’re just not my type. And the dancers in those tiny glittery shorts with bills tucked by some dirty geezers, Jesus Christ, I’d be damned If I had to do a role like that. I’m gay but not that gay, God.  
  
We casually walk right in and he shouts over the noise so I could hear him, “I’ll go change and see you at the bar, okay?” I nod and so he leaves me.  
  
I walk over to the bar and a grinning Tommy with arms open wide as if to welcome me. “You finally did it, huh?”  
  
“Did what?” I knit my brows together at him.  
  
“Did what my ass. You came together, you tell me,” he chides. I tell him that we did nothing at all. “You most certainly did, Mr. Jackson.”  
  
“Please stop calling me that,” I say with eyes narrowed at Mister Big Bartender. I miss calling him that. Not that I ever called that to his face.  
  
“Right, sorry. Anyway, this one’s on the house.” He pours white wine on two wine glasses.  
  
“Ooh, wine on the house! What are we celebrating?” Mickey chimed in, sounding really excited.  
  
Tommy hands us one glass each, “We are celebrating you, assholes. You both are too bad at hiding, really. I really don’t know how you get paid for acting when you’re real bad at concealing whatever you’re trying to conceal, Ian.” He raises his own glass of whatever he had already as he shouts, “Cheers!”  
  
I tell him to fuck off, but I raise my glass anyway when I see Mickey smiling and raising his own drink. He then shakes his head lightly and hugs Tommy, “Thanks, Papa Bear.” His voice showing the tiniest hint of sarcasm in it.  
  
A pang of jealousy hits me right in the gut. Those hugs are supposed to be reserved for me, right? Then I remembered we just started dating. But still, come on. This is twisted and God, I am beyond confused.  
  
“Okay, you’re welcome, I’ll go in the back now before Romeo over here stares me to death with his piercing and menacing green eyes,” Tommy chuckles us he makes his exit.  
  
∞  
  
I leave bar a good ten minutes before Mickey’s shift ends. I tell him that I’ll wait in the car. He just nods and smiles and he should really stop smiling like that. It’s too beautiful and I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve such a beautiful guy. Not that he’s already mine or anything. God, I can’t wait for the day that I can finally call him mine.  
  
He comes and sits in the passenger seat a few minutes later. Jody gives me salute before I head back to my seat and I mirror him, sign of respect or whatever. Then once again, Mickey and I are alone together.  
  
What do I do now? Shit, I should have planned this earlier. Too much staring. Now I’m blank. “So uh, I’m really sorry.” He asks me why I’m apologizing and so I start to clarify things for him. “I don’t know, the restaurant situation? Not introducing you to Emily? Didn’t know you were a big fan? I thought when you asked about her was because, well, the date, and then, me and her and all the movies, and—"  
  
He tells me not to worry about it. “I understand. I just didn’t expect you to be there, and you know, I was expecting to see you again, but like here, not there, whatever, no big deal. I mean, life’s too short to be getting mad or angry over those little things.”  
  
“Alright.” He both relax in our seats and I hesitantly start the car because a) I still don’t understand how he’s so cool when it comes to these things, and b) I have no idea where to go at this hour. “Uhm, where do you wanna go?”  
  
“Wherever, surprise me?”  
  
I smile at him faintly and say, “Okay. Surprise you it is.”  
  
But where do I surprise him at 3 in the morning?  
  
∞  
  
We’re outside of my building in just a couple of minutes. “Surprise?”  
  
“You bought me a building?” he acts stunned, with a goofy smile on his face and his hands clasped together.  
  
“Haha, come on.” We both get off and eventually got to my unit in no time. I shyly admitted that I did not know where else to go and get coffee at this hour, but I’m pretty sure the people around here would whip something up for Ian Jackson.  
  
“Yeah, I’d do anything for Ian Jackson,” he smirks and I swear I just died, this fucker sure knows what to say.  
  
I hurry into my room, shirts are sprawled here and there, so I had to make a quick clean-up. Not that I was expecting him to get in here. Hoping, yeah. “I’ll make a call first, okay? Make yourself at home.”  
  
“Yeah, okay.” I see him removing his scarf and jackets then I make a mental note to buy him something nice for Christmas.  
  
I call for room service and they said that it’s too early, but that one of the lady guards knows how to make a club sandwich and so I say that that will have to do.  
  
Mickey and I start talking about the most random things. How long have I been staying in this dream bachelor’s pad? A couple of days. Do I like it because he’s damn sure he does. Yes, and I think you liking it makes me like the place even more.  
  
The food arrives 20 minutes later. Mickey says that it’s really good for someone whose job was to guard the condominium. “So uh, you have two jobs. Isn’t it hard?”  
  
“It’sfungingahrd,” he talks through his mouth filled with sandwich. I pass him a bottle of beer and he wipes his mouth after having a sip. “Sorry, I said it’s fucking hard. And it’s four, not two.”  
  
“Four jobs? What else do you do, huh?”  
  
He starts talking about this job at some bookshop down at Santa Monica, which explains why he got to hang out with me yesterday afternoon. “It’s one of my friends, and he offered me the job when he learned that I moved here, just part-time, like whenever he has to leave on a trip or something.” I bite down on my sandwich and he’s right, it does taste really good. “The last job is another part-time gig, baby-sitting, don’t judge,” he says pointing a finger at me. That’s when I notice how he has this tattoo on his knuckles. F-U-C-K? What could be on the other hand? That is if there’s a word tattooed on the other hand.  
  
“Am not,” I say.  
  
“It’s not really that kind of baby-sitting anyway, I just take Kash’s kids to school whenever Linda was away for some meeting and all with Kash. Then pick them up hours later.” Oh, that kind of baby-sitting. Wait, what?  
  
I raise a brow at him. “Kash has kids? Isn’t he gay?”  
  
“Well, yeah, but being gay does not mean he can’t be a father, right?”  
  
Oh. Okay. Wow. I just did not see that coming. Is that why he passed out almost too easily? Was he not used to the partying like Mickey over here is?  
  
Mickey keeps saying that it’s the American dream, right? Just be free. Live, love, laugh? “Of course, I can’t do all that without busting my ass day in and out first. So yeah, four jobs.” Huh. That’s a lot of jobs. “Of course, meeting you is a big bonus.”  
  
He looks up at me and smiles.  
  
Then I realized that when he talked about best night ever, he was actually talking about when we were on the cab. So that’s why he most likely pinched Kash on the side so he’d say ‘ours’ instead of ‘yours’, which makes a lot of sense now. Knowing that that was his best night ever feels awesome.  
  
But if I were to say, having someone who likes you back is actually _the American dream ___. Of course I don’t tell him this. I really don’t want to fight him about it. I don’t want to fight him about anything at all. Can’t, I guess.  
  
∞  
  
The next best thing to knowing that the person you like likes you back is waking up next to him. Or whatever, I never really fell asleep. Not with the presence of Mickey next to me. Goddamn, he’s beautiful.  
  
It’s six in the morning and surprisingly, I don’t get any message from Emily nor Jimmy. The latter must have been to a party last night, probably sobering up from whatever that’s giving him hangover right now. I carefully get up so as not to wake the sleeping man next to me. I go over to the bathroom to do the usual morning ritual, pee, then wash my face, oh and well, minus that _certain part ___because I seriously can’t jack off knowing he’s only a couple of feet away from me.  
  
I start making coffee when I hear footsteps nearing me. “What time did I doze off?”  
  
“Not so sure, maybe sometime around your second cigarette and halfway through your sandwich?”  
  
I grin and he groans, “God, that sandwich was so fucking delicious.” He has his arms wrapped around himself and that’s when I see the ‘U-UP’ on his left knuckles. Okay, _fuck u-up? ___Clever.  
  
“True. Coffee?”  
  
“Yeah, I just, uhm ,bathroom?” I reflexively look down and see the bulge in his boxers and God almighty when did he take his pants off?  
  
“Oh yeah, there, just go over there at the one after the door to the hallway, the one to your left.” He nods and makes his way to the directions I just told him.  
  
We eat breakfast, toasted bread, sitting right across one another. “The coffee tastes good,” he notes. I tell him that I normally prefer cappuccino, but then I ran out of stock, so I had to settle with black. “You’re joking, right? God, cappuccino is so my thing!” he says proudly and the thought of the similarity is just too good to be true.  
  
Then he goes on again with being random. “So…tell me something about you Ian Jackson.” I tell him that he probably knows everything about me. “There’s at least one thing, just anything, I’m sure there’s something, guilty pleasures, dark secrets, skeletons in one of your walk-in closets?”  
  
“Yeah, hidden beneath those hundreds of stuffed toys and letters I get from the fans,” I quip. Guilty pleasure? You. Not something I can say right now so I say, “Well, I think Cape Town is a really lovely place.”  
  
“Who doesn’t?”  
  
“You’re right. But I mean, sometimes, if you’ve spent so much time in a place, you get tired and bored, I’ve basically lived there for ten months for two separate movies and the longer I stayed, the more beautiful it just got.”  
  
“Wow, man, I wish I could go there.” I would love to take you there someday, Mickey.  
  
“Alright, your turn.”  
  
“Nah, there’s nothing nice or exciting to know about me.” Okay, you’re seriously not making me beg, Mickey Blue Eyes. I think about something and then it hits me, right, I don’t know his last name. So I ask him just that. “It’s…not important. Come on, pick something else.”  
  
“How is one’s last name not important, huh?”  
  
“Do you know your last name? And don’t you answer me with yes, because what I mean is your real last name.” I feel myself frowning at what he just said. Smart ass. “I got you, didn’t I? See, you’ve been using Jackson for what, seventeen years or so?”  
  
I chime in, “Eighteen.”  
  
“Okay, eighteen, and then you found out, not too long ago, with the help of Karen, that you are not a Jackson, at all.” I was going to ask him why he knows all these but then I realize that it was on the internet and on every showbiz news shows possible for at least a week. “You were trapped in a last name that you were led to believe was yours for years. And now that you know of the truth, you may or may not want to know your real last name, or get to know your biological parents, but what I’m sure is that you, Ian, hates what you thought was your last name for eighteen years.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“That was really messy, I mean, what I said just now,” he chuckles lightly. “I sometimes don’t get myself. But the point is, I don’t need my shitty last name to make me live my life. Check out those celebrity’s kids. You think Jennifer Garner’s daughter will happy? Being rich and all, yeah, but generally, I don’t think so. What, with people around who keep messing up with your private life, butchering you with statements like, _‘why can’t be like your mother?’ or ‘sorry, but you really don’t look like your mother, honey.’ ___  
  
“Everything that is just plain hurtful, and bullshit, and all that because of her last name? Fuck me, but I’d rather just go with Mickey and Mickey alone.” I totally get the point, what he is saying, but then he says fuck me and I don’t think I heard anything after that.  
  
“You sure have a lot of words of wisdom, huh?”  
  
Mickey says “Sort of? I just wish someone told me these when I was younger, you know. They could have helped me big time.” His statement makes me wonder what kind of life he used to live back in Chicago that made him say something like that.  
  
Our _pleasant ___breakfast is disturbed by none other than the devil’s advocate. He calls me on the telephone and I keep mumbling over the line, trying to hard not to let this fucker ruin my day. Jimmy asks if I have someone over and I say “Fuck do you care?”  
  
“I’m your fucking manager, you fuckhead,” he basically screams on the other end of the line. Jesus, this guy is killing me, in a bad way.  
  
“You want me to go deaf or something? God. Whatever, yeah, I’ll call you later.”  
  
I hear him say, “Yeah fuck you, too” before I put the telephone down and go back to my seat.  
  
“Who was that, mumbles?” Mickey’s voice is suddenly changed from tough guy defending his reason to sweet boyfriend voice, not that he is my boyfriend, although yeah, I really want him to be my boyfriend.  
  
“Mumbles? Oh.” And he’s calling me names now?  
  
“Yes oh,” his smile sends my insides jumping for joy. I could not help but smile along.  
  
I tell him that it was my manager Jimmy. “Wait, you’re leaving?”  
  
“Yeah, I need to sleep some more before my next gig, the bookstore one.” He puts his scarf around his neck as soon as he got his jacket on. “This was a perfect second date, Ian.”  
  
I smile at the thought: second date. “Wait, you can sleep here, if you like.” Please like.  
  
His face contorts in a really cute way when he says “I kinda have to shower, too?” My brain is suddenly filled with images of him showering in my bathroom and I quickly shut them away before looking like a total pervert right now.  
  
“Yeah yeah, sure. Uh, alright” He says that he’ll see me around then and that he left his number on my phone while I was on the telephone and hope I don’t mind. “No sure, that’s great. I’ll call you then.” Work it, brain. Think of something. Okay. “But let me at least take you to the ground floor. Wait, I just gotta put some pants on.”  
  
“Okay. Afraid something might happen on my way down?” he puns as he stays and waits for me by the door.  
  
“Yeah, whatever.” Not whatever, I just want to spend some more time with you. I rush into my bedroom and wear whatever pair of pants I found. I also put a green hooded jacket on because I realize I was wearing this plain and ugly-looking beige shirt.  
  
I remember Jimmy reminding me to be ready whenever I go and step in on the elevator, you never know who you’ll take the ride with. I think I actually saw Lily Collins one time and I think she is even more beautiful in person. Too bad she was on her way put when I was on my way up.  
  
The elevator is the place where the oddest things happen the most, Jimmy told me the first time we came and used the elevator together. He explained that there’s only two elevators, so the strangest of trips occur.  
  
This is not strange at all, just two guys in this very big and silent elevator. Mickey is leaning on the left side while I lean my spine against the back of the elevator. I don’t know if it’s the stories that Jimmy has told me, or the familiarity that Mickey and I have established with one another. Or maybe, it’s just the moment, calling for it. One way or another, my brain stopped working well when the light blinks __floor 20 __. I look up at Mickey and he glances but at me. I just find myself being so fully decided on the idea of adding another thing on the list and so in between floors 19 and 18, I move closer to Mickey and kiss him on the lips.  
  
I have kissed Emily a lot of times. I have kissed other girls as well. But those are all for show. This, right here, right now, is nothing but real. I never thought kissing a guy would feel like this. Mickey has some tiny stubble on his chin that I have never really noticed or have given too much care until now. Not so much care, though, to be honest. My mind is too caught up with the feeling of our lips finally meeting. I have been waiting for this moment and it is really happening now.  
  
It was a chaste kiss at first until it just was not anymore. He opens mouth giving my tongue access and then it is what it is. My hands are on the either side of his face while his are tugging on the sides of my hoodie, as if he is holding onto it for dear life.  
  
One of his hands, the left, or right, I’m not sure, travels up and against my chest and I swear to God, my heart is going wild. It is beating triple times as fast one minute and completely stops to function the next minute.  
  
Kissing with those girls never made me felt this way. None of those ever gave this kind of breathless and heart-racing feeling. It’s sunshine after a rainy day and birds singing happily and God, every other cliché things to ever graze this side of the earth.  
  
We pull away from one another, after what felt like a really long time, to take a breather. We are both trying to catch up with the normal breathing process and all that science things, with our hands still glued right in their places moments ago. I look into his blue eyes and he looks right back into my green ones, and we both smile because we know, _we_ just happened.  
  
We both smile and I could not help but place another kiss on his soft lips just right before the elevator dings open. Our cue telling us that we had to pull away from each other. Okay, maybe this, right here, is the American dream? He utters a low, “Bye” right before he gets off the elevator and I nod back at him.  
  
He does not even give off a single sign to anybody around him of what we just did. He disturbingly amazes me all the time. Plus, I just kissed him and he kissed me back.


	9. Father's Day

“What’s with you?” I hear Emily’s chirpy voice when she finds me oddly grinning just a tad bit too wide than ever. I tell her that it’s nothing but she does not look like she buys it. The kiss was more or less three days ago but my face definitely says it all. “Yeah, you’re not fooling anybody, Ian.”  
“Well, fine.” I ask the driver of the limousine ride we are on to put give us some privacy and put down the separator thing. I normally enjoy these rides from when some big production team asks for our appearance, but this one is too disturbing. When he does what I said, Emily gives me a look, gesturing me to go on. “I’m kinda seeing someone.”  
  
She moves over real close to me and excitedly gushes, “Well, deets? Who? Oh my God, do I know him? Come on~”  
  
I know that we were already given the privacy I asked but I still hope against hope that the driver did not hear her. Sometimes she forgets and gets too freaking excited. “Just someone I met.”  
  
She snaps back at me and crosses her arms over her chest, “Of course, he’s someone you met! But God, more, like where? When? Tell. Me. More.”  
  
Her phone rings and she wonders why Jimmy is calling her. “He stole me phone from me. Again.” She hands her phone to me and I never thought Jimmy calling me would feel this good. I excuse myself from Emily and she just rolls her eyes at me. What a creative way to say yes. Thank God.  
  
“Woah, did I just hear you thank God when you picked my call?” Jimmy sounds really pleased. I did not. Or did I really say that out loud? Whatever. I tell him to shut up, and that I was caught up in something. “Emily there?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“God, that woman is freaky. So anyway, Sheila called, something about your important stuff and all that.”  
  
Right, I forgot to tell Jimmy about those. “Yeah, can you pick them up for me?”  
  
I do not hear anything for a couple of seconds before Jimmy is back on. “Uh, no because a) I’m your manager, not your help, and b) it’s your father’s birthday tomorrow, man, you’ve got to see your folks. I mean, Sheila, that poor thing.  
  
I am not delighted at all, but I can’t handle some more of Emily’s questions. Not for now, at least. “Fine, whatever, I’ll go.”  
  
∞  
  
The last three days, I have done nothing but work. A tv series cameo here, an appearance there, plus, lots and lots of Jimmy things over that. I got really busy that I did not even have the time to go see Mickey at the club, or anywhere else. I hope he does not think I pussied out or anything after the elevator kiss. He’s probably seen me on one of the live shows I did, and I just hope he understands. But then again, he’s got fours jobs, maybe he’s too busy and now I am just praying all is well.  
  
I find my phone on top of my drawer when I get back to my place. About fucking time, asshole. Jimmy just knows how to make my life miserable. Which reminds me, that man should not have a spare key to my place. The thought of it alone scares me. What if he decides to show up unannounced when Mickey is over? Say Mickey and I are in the middle of kissing? Yes, if Mickey is over at my place, I will most definitely kiss him again. It’s just inevitable.  
  
On another note, going back to my old place is fucked up, but at least I’m not being interrogated by Emily anymore. It’s nice having a best friend like her and all, but I’ve never really talked to her about these things. I don’t even know where Mickey and I stand. Like yeah, we see each other, and then the kiss, but that’s it, so far.  
  
The mere thought of going there alone horrifies me though. There’s two of them and just me and I seriously don’t think I can handle another shit right now. Emily is out of the question since I basically just got away from her. I try Jimmy, then he says he’s busy remember? So I say, “Fine, I’ll just go with Mickey.”  
  
He asks me, “Who?”  
  
I answered him saying, “None of your fucking business, you busy shit.” I just need someone so Sheila and Eddie won’t go full guilt-tripping on me or something. I’m left with no choice.  
  
I remember him letting me know that he saved his number on my phone. I just hope he’s not busy or anything. I check my phone and go to _M_ , no Mickey? Was he lying? He’s a fucking rat. I then scroll from A in hopes that he wasn’t really lying, maybe he used some other name. Like Angelic dude who saved you that night? Then my heart skips a beat. _“Boyfriend?”_  
Did he really put his number in as ‘Boyfriend?’ I’m not so sure how to feel with the question mark though. Not so sure if I can call him now either when I can barely breathe. Boyfriend? I call him after being frozen in my room for a good shit ton of minutes.  
  
“Boyfriend? Really.”  
  
I hear him laugh a bit before he says, “Hello to you, too.”  
  
“So, boyfriend huh?”  
  
“Not really sure. What do you think?” his voice is tempting and inviting.  
  
I start saying, “I—,” but then I realize that as much as I badly want to say yes, I just know that I couldn’t, so I finish it off and whispered, “don’t know.” I was not prepared for this. I just don’t want to drag him into the whole mess that is the scrutinizing public eye. I don’t want to do anything to hurt him but somehow, I feel like I just did.  
  
I hear him voice out a hushed ‘oh’ and then a really quick pause. “Okay then, not boyfriend. So why’d you call, Mr. Ian Jackson?”  
  
I could tell the hint of pain in his voice when he says ‘oh’. Or was it just another figment of imagination? Though I don’t know what hurts more, the pain of hearing that, or the fact that he was quickly able to feel okay in a jiffy and goes asking me why I called. “It’s Eddie’s birthday, the fake Dad, and yeah, it’s your day off at the club, right? It’s just down at Greendale.”  
  
“What part of meeting the parents does not make me your boyfriend?”  
  
“They’re not my parents,” I chide with a serious tone.  
  
“Right,” he says with a knowing tone. “So, where are we meeting?” I tell him that I will pick him up at The Hudson. Before I end the call I tell him it was nice hearing his voice to which he answers with, “Seeya later, not boyfriend.”  
  
∞  
  
Mickey was already outside the restaurant when I stop by to pick him up at around eight in the evening. “You should’ve stayed inside, it’s too cold out,” I ask once he was seated right next to me. He says that it was okay, and that he was not waiting that long anyway.  
  
We did not talk about the kiss or the boyfriend thing. Instead, he goes on sharing random moments at that on this afternoon’s gig and how his manager sucks.  
  
Eddie welcomes us inside and I do the quick introductions for everyone.  
  
“Oh, I’m delighted you could join us, Mickey! I’ll just go and add another set on the table for you, okay?” Sheila beams and suddenly the whole Karen fiasco is forgotten. Creepy.  
  
“I’m really glad you boys could come. Your mother is devastated, we still could not find Karen, but she’s left a message, a really angry message, and some kids were on the background screaming and all that, it just freaked your Mom out,” Eddie leads us to the dining table.  
  
Mickey sits beside me, right across my parents, which is odd, because we used to sit on each side of the table, the four of us, with Karen. “So Mickey, is that short for Michael?” Sheila inquires. Devastated? She sure does not look like it.  
  
Mickey smiles as he says, “no, it’s just Mickey.” I smile because it is _just ___Mickey. Silence. “Oh, by the way,” Mickey then pulls a champagne bottle out of his sling bag, “I was at the grocery when Ian asked me to come with. Happy birthday, Mr. Jackson.”  
  
Huh. Is that some of magic bag that I don’t even notice the bottle inside it? Eddie thanks Mickey and tell him that _‘it’s just Eddie’ ___and they laugh like they have known each other long enough to be laughing like that.  
  
Another silence hits us before Sheila says, “Well, dig in before the food gets cold.”  
  
We stay silent during the whole dinner. I wait until Mickey has finished eating before I say that we should already leave.  
  
“Nonsense. You boys can stay for the night since it is raining pretty hard outside,” Sheila worriedly informs us.  
  
I don’t listen. I don’t think I ever will anymore, to be honest. I face Mickey and basically ordered him to come up to my room o he could help me with some things.  
  
“Excuse us,” he tells Eddie and Sheila as he wipes his mouth with a napkin and follows right after me. I leave the door of my room open, waiting for him to get in. “Ian, she looks devastated, well, both of them. Can’t you indulge them? Just for the night.”  
  
“No, God.” I say a tad bit too sternly. “Just sit right there, will you?” I don’t want Mickey to be a part of this clutter. This is just too exhausting and I feel like he’s got enough on his hands to be exhausted with.  
  
“Isn’t this why you made me come? To help you guys be okay, in a way?”  
  
What? “God, no.” I myself don’t know why I made you come with. I just thought that I’d feel okay when I’m with you, right here. He stays silent as he waits for me to put some things in my black backpack.  
  
Sheila and Eddie are outside of my room when I finish packing some gadgets. “Honey, you know, we are still your parents. We took you in when you were just a baby,” Sheila reminisced.  
  
“And we adopted you,” Eddie adds. Yes, because all you are after are the legal papers and all that shit.  
  
“Please, just come back, Ian. You are still our son, our baby boy.” Sheila is basically pleading now.  
  
“Do you hear yourselves right now? Christ!” I storm out of my room and I hear Mickey saying sorry to them as he follows me.  
  
“Ian, are you seriously doing this to them?”  
  
“Just, please, Mick, you don’t understand,” I sigh and it’s the first time that I ever see him look mad.  
  
He mutters, “Whatever.” Oh, God, not him, too. This is all getting too frustrating. Sheila is crying when Mickey and I get to the door.  
  
“Ian, just, take this with you,” she hands me the dark jacket with the orange underside, my favorite.  
  
“What am I going to do with this? I can buy a lot of new ones. Besides, I told you I’m taking the ones that are not from you.”  
  
Eddie chimes in, “It’s not. It’s from your parents, your biological parents.”  
  
“You were just a really tiny kid wrapped in that thing, and God, out in the cold, we just had to take you in. And maybe that’s the reason why you love that jacket so much, you know, you’ve been wearing it since you were four, telling us how excited you wanted to grow so it will fit you perfectly,” Sheila’s voice starts to break again. “We love you so much, Ian. We just want what’s best for you.”  
  
And that does it. I don’t know why but I suddenly felt tears running down my cheeks. She could be taking bullshit, both of them, but my brain feels like believing them right now. I nod, because that is all I can afford to do now and say, “thanks” before I walk out. I could hear Mickey saying that it was nice to meet them before we are both back in my car.  
  
I could see Sheila and Eddie, still standing by the doorway. Agoraphobia. Who knew you’d be good to me? She then hugs him tight as I start the car and drive away.  
  
∞  
  
After the whole me pulling a Karen walkout from our quote parents unquote, I am once again in my car, driving against the strong rainstorms.  
  
“Ian, you’re driving too fast, man,” Mickey says as calm as I think he could.  
  
“Just put your seatbelt on and we’ll be okay,” I declare even though I don’t think I myself will ever believe what I just said.  
  
“My fucking seatbelt is on, _you ___put your fucking seatbelt on. What the hell, Ian? Are you trying to get us killed or something?” His voice is louder and I feel like he’s scared, but I’m not sure. He looks more like he’s really furious, and I just go on driving at a really fast pace like, man, I’m the one with the sick and lying parents issues, you don’t get to be furious right now. “Why are you being so stupid and careless?”  
  
“I am not being stupid and careless!” I clutch on top the steering wheel tighter more than ever.  
  
“You know what, just stop the car.” I take the main road of Los Feliz Boulevard, and a huge rainstorm is going on and he seriously wants me to stop the car. He goes mad when I don’t say anything. “Just pull the fuck over.”  
  
“Fine! If you want to get off here, alright.” It’s dark and it’s hard to see with the heavy rain fogging everything up so I thank God when I find a little vacant lot where I could easily stop the car. “Here, you want to leave me so badly? I get it.”  
  
I glare at him as he scoffs and unfastens his seatbelt. It’s taking me everything not to take back everything I said just now. I can’t make him leave like this. God, I would never want him to leave. I basically just threw him out. Mickey sighs and mutters, “Jesus Christ, Ian.”  
  
One second, he’s using the Lord’s name in vain and he’s got his lips pressed hard against mine on the next. It was quick, how he suddenly has his hands clenched on the collar of my jacket and his tongue in my mouth. I can’t even tell when I opened my mouth.  
  
The kiss is heated and hurried from all the anxiety that started building up the moment we got back into the car. A Ford Fusion is not a very good car for two guys to be doing this, size-wise, but somehow, Mickey found a way to be on me, straddling me. My left hand is holding onto him right on his nape while my right hand frantically and blindly starts pressing random buttons in hopes that I could find the right one that would adjust my seat.  
  
I don’t even bother to care about Mickey’s weight heavy on me. Or that we just had dinner back at my old place. Or that my heart is about to burst. I try so much not to break the kiss but we both just have to when we suddenly feel the cold rain pouring heavy on us. He mutters an “oh fuck, that’s cold!” while I quickly apologize saying that oops, it was the wrong button, quickly pressing it again to close the sun roof.  
  
The sound of our laughter fills the car for a couple of seconds. Our faces are wet with the rain, and he starts wiping mine off with the sleeve of his sweater. When did he even take his jacket off? He smiles softly right before he kisses me again, a bit slower than earlier this time.  
  
“W-wait,” I stutter faintly as I break the kiss. I crane my head a little to the right so that this time, I could see and press the right button. Then the back of my seat lowers down and I kiss Mickey almost immediately after.  
  
There’s more tongue action. A lot more than all the other kisses I have done, combined. Hands are flying everywhere, his face, my chest, his waist, just everywhere. He starts removing my jacket and I regret not removing it earlier.  
  
He trails soft kisses all over my neck and I could feel myself getting hard. Mickey grinding his hips against my crotch is not helping either. I could feel his hand travel south and shit tons of questions came crashing into my head, questions that I really have no plans to answer right now.  
  
Mickey breaks the kiss, enabling both of us again to catch a breather, and allowing me to see the look on his face, hooded eyes as he licks his lower lip. He leans his head close to mine and whispers in my ear, “In the back, I can’t, here…”  
  
“What?” I ask because other than him not being clear and all, I also think my brain has once again forgotten how to function well.  
  
“I said,” he exhales deeply and says, “We need to move to the back so I have enough space to suck your dick.” No answer. “Do you want me to suck your fucking cock or what?” The side of his lips curls into a beautiful, inviting smirk and I just grab his face for one quick kiss before both of us scramble our way to the backseat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to the end. See me at Tumblr, I'm epitome-derangedfangirl ;)  
> P.S. I actually can't wait to write the whole second volume already. Everything is a lot clearer there. HAHA xx


	10. A Beautiful Mess

As much as I want to delete the goddamn question mark after the beautiful word that is _Boyfriend ___, I don’t think I can just yet. Mickey and I never really talked about it again. After what happened that night, we took a quick nap on the backseat. I let him put his head on my shoulder and I woke up at around one in the morning when he shuffles in his seat. After that, I remember driving real slow so I won’t wake him.  
  
I still remember his raspy voice whispering into my ear, “I’ll never leave you.” A promise I believe I don’t deserve. I leave him at my unit with a note saying that I had to meet Jimmy and that I’ll be back as soon as possible.  
  
Now I’m stuck in this junket with Emily next to me. I try to stop myself from yawning for the nth time already, but I keep failing. She notices this and so she asks black coffee for me and I thank her, even though iced cappuccino would have been so much better.  
  
The interview goes past the allotted time. Where is Jimmy when I need him? If I see him making out with that alien speaking Estefania, I will fucking fire him. Then most likely hire him back tomorrow.  
  
It does not take a genius for one to be able to tell that I was not fully listening to this woman and her stupid questions. But something catches my attention when Emily suddenly says something about me giving her flowers and chocolates last night. Yeah, last night? When I pulled over somewhere down at Los Feliz Boulevard and got kissed by Mickey, and kissed him back, and had my cock sucked, his words not mine, and how it was all such a beautiful mess? Yeah, I gave you flowers and chocolates. I am surprised but it’s easy to cover shit up when I’m sober.  
  
Miss Interviewer, I think her name is Joy or Jay or whatever, asks me excitedly, “So you two are dating now? Finally!” Although it totally sounded more like a statement rather than a question.  
  
“I, it’s not like that, we’re really good friends and I just thought she deserved some sweets and flowers,” I manage to come up with what I think is okay enough.  
  
Emily is all flirtatious smiles and fake girly laughs which makes the interviewer says matter-of-factly, “Yep, definitely sounds like dating to me.”  
  
I just give her a faux smile saying that it is what it is.  
  
We go straight to Jimmy’s car after the interview because we have to do this public appearance to this party thing down at Boulevard3. He’s lucky Estefania is not here or I would have thrown her out of the car myself. “What the fuck was that about?”  
  
Emily answers even though my question was mostly dedicated to my asshole of a manager. “Our thing. Didn’t Jimmy tell you?”  
  
“Hey fuckface, what thing is she talking about?” Jimmy acts busy as he checks his iPad, a thing he usually does that when I go _this_ mad. Too bad he was not the one driving, he finally hired a driver, so I grab his shirt and pull him back earning a lot of _‘ouches’_ and _‘fucks'_ from him.  
  
He promises to explain when I get my hands off him, so I do. “You were busy, I couldn’t contact you, God knows where you were last night! Sheila was worried when she called me after you left and so I asked that motel again, and that club.”  
  
“Didn’t know you were into motels, Ian?” Emily asks from beside me.  
  
“Just please, not now, Emily.” I focus back on Jimmy. “What club are you talking about?”  
  
“Oh, don’t you play dumb with me, asshole. I am your manager, I know all the places you frequent. No calls from the police, I just assumed you were dead or something. Glad you actually called me this morning, but you were busy saying shit like you have to be back at your condo soon and whatever and you never listened to me so I failed to tell you.”  
  
I am basically screaming now. “Yeah! Failed to tell me that I apparently gave her flowers and chocolates? That we’re dating? You know how I said my love life is excluded to everything.”  
  
Jimmy snickers, “Not anymore, Ian. With the Karen fiasco and you leaving home, we need you and Emily together to get through this. At least until the whole movie deal wraps up. It’s Svetlana’s idea, so you should thank her.”  
  
∞  
  
I got very angry as shit so we decided to skip the whole appearance thing and just have a photo taken at some café, let Jimmy do the explaining as to why we’re here and not where we’re supposed to be. We drop Emily off at her place before we head back to my apartment.  
  
We were in the elevator when I remembered Mickey was in my place. Good thing he was dressed up when we got there. Jimmy looks surprised. Why wouldn’t he?  
  
“He’s my friend Mickey and he kinda needed a place to crash,” I say just to stop Jimmy and his brain to go somewhere uninvited.  
  
Mickey smiles and says, “Yeah, I was just leaving. I’ll pay you back sometime soon, alright?” I give him a slight nod and with that, he’s out of my unit. Then I remember how he was sucking me off last night, if maybe he meant that, and I see Jimmy with the same judging look on his face. Okay, I’m back to being angry.  
  
“Look, the whole you and Emily being together thing is good publicity. Alright? It’s a win-win situation.”  
  
“I seriously do not know how good this is for me, at all!”  
  
Jimmy shoots me a look as he says, “It’s not like you’re with someone. Or are you?”  
  
Oh, you are dead meat, Jimmy Steve Lishman, God! I heave out a frustrated sigh. “Whatever, it’s your job to actually tell me before hand what was happening and not make me look like an asshole trying to deny what Emily and I apparently had going on between us!”  
  
“But you’re Ian Jackson, right? You managed to get through everything with your amazing acting skills. And you will go through with this.” Yes, that’s where this man is good at, praising me with all his fancy shits so I would give in to his stupid and childish schemes.  
  
I don’t even know what to think anymore. My phone beeps telling me that I just got a message and I’m pretty sure it’s from Mickey. And when I check it, it’s like all the burden is lifted.  
  
Boyfriend?: _I hope you’re doing okay right now. Call me, alright? ___  
  
I remember how he had to leave earlier and how I had to lie about him. We’re not together, yeah, but we’re seeing each other and I feel so fucking guilty and he’s the one worrying if I’m okay? What the fuck is wrong with this Mickey?  
  
∞  
  
I dial Mickey’s number the moment Jimmy leaves. I need to hear his voice. It’s the only thing that makes me want go on with life. “Hey.”  
  
“Oh my God, hey! You okay? Your manager looked scary. Is something wrong?” There is nothing in the tone of his voice but genuine worry, and makes me smile but feel sad at the same time.  
  
“Nothing big,” I lie. Something is wrong. No, everything is just wrong, but of course, I can’t tell you over the phone. I don’t think I can say it to your face either, but for now, it’s easier like this than telling the truth.  
  
His voice lightens up as he says, “We should watch a movie! It’ll distract you or something. I laugh faintly as I tell him that sure, I can download us some good things. I ask him what he wants me to download and so he answers me with, “I’ll text you some titles then I’ll come over. I just have to go to this thing first, alright?”  
  
“Yeah, okay. See you.”  
  
∞  
  
My tummy tumbles when someone buzzes on the door. He’s here. Okay. I look around once again to make sure the place looks perfect this time. There is pizza on the living room coffee table. I’m just not sure what he really likes. Cotton candy, yeah, but I could not find some nearby. Instead, I got tons of chips and ice cream in the fridge. I also have popcorn, just to be sure.  
  
“Hey,” I smile.  
  
He smiles back, “Hey.” He puts his sling bag on the couch then he starts taking his jacket and the same blue scarf off and I take it from him. He then tells me that he got me something.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Close your eyes,” he grins.  
  
“Really,” I say nonchalantly.  
  
“Yeah, really. Trust me, you’ll love it,” he beams and so I close my eyes. It should have been no surprise that he was going kiss me because I could smell the lavender coming closer. But still, my heart somersaults as our lips were pressed against each other’s. His hands are cold against my cheeks and mine instinctively tug either side of his waist. It’s a really nice and special kiss. Not too languid, but not hard either, just gentle and loving.  
  
When we part for air, I feel lifeless. How have I managed to live without him my whole life? Now I don’t think I’ll ever survive a day without seeing him, kissing him, touching him, doing things to him.  
  
Then we settle on the couch and it’s almost perfect. _Almost_. I hate the thought of me and Emily distracting me from this beautiful mess. I can’t fully concentrate on the movie.  
  
He says he’s seen this movie lots of times before, I did once. _Under Siege_. We steal glances at each other once in a while. We would let out faint laughs when we happen to look at each other at the same time.  
  
He then rests his head on mine, which I don’t mind, really. I just hope he would not be able to tell the shit I’m dealing with right now. I hope my acting works right now. The movie does not distract me at all.  
  
Sometime almost at the end, I ask him, “Exactly how many times have you watched this, huh?” And he does not reply which tells me that he has fallen asleep. I kiss the top of his head and I hope he doesn’t find it weird. He snuggles closer with me as a subconscious respond and I smile.  
  
A smile that vanishes in a split second because of the fear of hurting Mickey. Because he is not just my favorite person in the world. He is the first person that’s ever made me felt this way. He understands me. He worries about me. He is not lying to me unlike everybody else I know. And God, he likes me back. Now I’m crying and praying silently that he would not notice because that’s the last thing I need now, Mickey seeing me cry.  
  
∞  
  
It’s another morning waking up next to him. Could life get any better? My left arm hurts a little bit from our sleeping position but I really don’t mind. I leave him on my bed to go wash my face.  
  
I know I should be telling him the truth now. We can still see each other. I mean, two guys, nothing suspicious right? And I think he’ll understand, I have told him that Emily and I are just friends, right? Why is this so fucking hard?  
  
I snuggle back next to him and I kiss him awake earning a soft ‘hey’ from him. I smile and say “What?”  
  
He mumbles, “I haven’t brushed my teeth, you know?”  
  
“Me neither.”  
  
Then we smile and laugh faintly before he tells me that he likes my smile. “I barely ever see you smile.” I tell him that I smile a lot though as I put my arms beneath my head. “For the camera, yeah, because they pay you and all, huh?” There’s a hint of defiance in the way he asks me.  
  
“Maybe,” I knowingly say.  
  
“So, how much should I pay you huh?”  
  
“Well, I’m very expensive and all, I mean, I’m not Ian Jackson, America’s _it_ boy for nothing, I proudly answered him.  
  
“Really?” His voice is challenging and it did not feel like he was really asking me at all. “What if I kiss you here?” Mickey places a soft kiss on the side of my nose. “Or here?” I feel another kiss right on the side of my lips. “Or what about here?” He kisses me right below my left ear, and I unconsciously let out a low moan. I could hear the faint laugh as he says, “I bet you’ll love it if I kiss here.” After which he trails butterfly kisses from my neck and then he traced really soft pecks up to my lips.  
  
Next thing I know, Mickey is on top of me and his bulge is poking against my tummy. I could feel my boxers tightening with the friction alone. I look into his eyes as they stare back into mine. He grins as he slyly say, “If I wake up like this forever, I’ll never leave your place.”  
  
I am not so sure as to how I should respond so I just kiss him again. “Breakfast in bed?” Okay, thanks a lot, stupid mouth.  
  
It’s right there, in his eyes. Danger. But he is quick in concealing it and then he chuckles when he tells me that this is going to be his best breakfast ever.


	11. A Long Way from Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the story is kind of confusing. A lot of things will be explained in the next chapters, especially on the last one. Hope you guys keep reading! :)  
> 

They say that there’s always a first time for everything. A first time a baby walks or maybe say “Mama”. A first time a couple kisses. A time for silly fights and make-ups. A first time you see someone and you say, he’s nice. First time you talk, hang-out, not talk. First time you go somewhere together and it feels nothing but perfect.  
  
They also say that every man has his, say, animal instincts. Sex is a natural thing, and it just happens, and it’s a lot better if you do it with someone you love and Mickey is definitely someone I love. I think. And the way he _handled me with care_ like I was some fragile shit, it was nice. That he knows I’m still a virgin so he went slow, then of course real fast and nice.  
  
Anyway, first time I had sex and not regretting a single bit. Well, except of course right after we did it. Since it’s my first actual time, I kind of wanted to stay in for the day and just chill with him. We snuggled and talked whatever nonsense we came up with in hushed voices and soft mumbles. I did not want it to ever end. Me and him, on that bed.  
  
But he said he had to leave soon. Mickey says he can’t because he can’t afford to take the day off again, or Hudson’s manager might actually fire him now. He told me that he will just see me at Club Red later tonight. He was hurrying so much when he saw the time saying nine in the morning that he left his blue scarf, I will hand it to him together with my gift. Oh no, the bottle of lube, too? Not sure what to do about that one.  
  
Nevertheless, it was perfectly imperfect. Now he’s got me talking clichés I never thought I’d be using in real life.  
  
Jimmy arrives a good hour after Mickey left and he sure knows how to ruin my day. I quickly throw any trace of Mickey right into my cabinet so Jimmy will not be up on me. Not today, Jimmy Steve. Not today.  
  
“Nice hickey, man. Go wash yourself and do something about that.”  
  
I give him a stern look before I head back to my room. So I apparently left one trace out. Yeah, it sure is a nice hickey from Mickey. What if I don’t want to do anything about you, huh? I am actually surprised Jimmy is not asking who did it.  
  
I hear Jimmy calling me, “Hurry the fuck up, will you?” Yeah, okay, a scarf will have to work. I grab the first thing I touched from my cabinet and put it around my neck.  
  
∞  
  
Jimmy and I sit next to each other on the back of his Cayenne. He starts telling me about this director who we were about to meet when he suddenly gasps dramatically. “What the hell are you fucking wearing, Jackson!?” I raised a brow at him in confusion then he goes on saying, “There’s a fucking hole on that thing. Oh dear Lord, do you have rodents in your place? I should call up your manager, I need to call someone, I—”  
  
“Hold up, Jimmy Steve!’ I nearly shout before he could actually call someone. “There are no rodents or anything, stop being such a baby, Jesus. This must be Mickey’s, you made me hurry and I just grabbed anything, so yeah.”  
  
“Mickey?”  
  
“The one who crashed at my place couple nights ago,” I shrug and try to act coolly in hopes that he won’t be able to read anything.  
  
He catches his breath and I scoff at him. Seriously, all that for a hole on a scarf? Is he on something? Really. “Alright, just make sure you don’t get a picture taken wearing that, fine, know what, let’s just get a new one, Director Sam Hall can wait. I seriously don’t know what to do with you anymore!”  
  
In a couple of minutes, Jimmy and I are in a boutique. And while he look around for something that would go with what I was wearing, I head over to another aisle and got a nice set of gloves and scarf that I think would be perfect on Mickey. I ask the salesgirl to have it put inside a nice brown gift bag just to stay under the radar of Lishman.  
  
My manager makes me wear the one he got. “Yep, just perfect. Now let’s get this lunch over and done with.” He grins and then drops the faux smile in half a second. “You bought something for Emily?”  
  
My mind wanders for a bit before I realize what he means. “Oh, yeah, I did.” He shoots me another look so I say gruffly, “What?”  
  
∞  
  
Jimmy is all smiles during lunch. Not a happy smile, to be honest. It’s more of a _yes, you are a big director so I will keep on smiling and just get this deal with you_ kind of smile. He is sitting right across me so I see the just right through his cover.  
  
There is no Emily around, but some Asian dude from some Asian country. I think his name is Ken. He does not look dashing, at all. But I don’t know, I feel like in some weird and crazy alternate universe, I would be doing him. Not that I would know how doing him would feel, or doing anybody, at all.  
  
His manager, a petite Asian woman who looks a lot like Lane Kim from that Gilmore Girls show, sits on his other side. Mr. Hall is seated right next to Jimmy, eating heartily off of my credit card. Yes, eat away, all of you, really. Don’t mind me, I just want to get this shit done.  
  
It’s a weird ensemble but I don’t care, I just wanted to get away as soon as possible. And so after a good hour of pretenses, jimmy and I leave. He’s back to the usual Jimmy.  
  
“Why isn’t Emily around?”  
  
“Good, you’re missing your girlfriend, that’s progress,” he utters and I swear to God I could just punch him, but I did not want anything to ruin this day. I just had the best morning of my life. Fuck Jimmy Steve. Fuck anybody else.  
  
He hands me a folder as he says, “You should check it sooner or later.” Later, fucker, I have much more important shit to deal with right now. “Is there someone?”  
  
Shit, did he hear me just now? And why is he asking like he’s my boyfriend who caught me cheating? Dream the fuck on, Lishman. “What do you mean,” I speak sternly.  
  
“Why don’t you like the whole you and Emily plan?”  
  
How dare he ask me a question with an answer that I can’t dare say out loud right now? “There doesn’t have to be _someone_ ,” I voice out seriously. “Besides, she’s like my sister, she’s my best friend and I told you what happened that day you left, right? If she’s into me, and we do this, she’ll fall deeper and it’ll fuck our friendship so no.”  
  
“Is that it?” Jimmy looks doubtful and I hate him more than ever. Because he knows, the hickey was nothing but a perfect giveaway, but as usual, I don’t want him to give the satisfaction of _winning_. Never.  
  
“What else do you want me to say?” I say looking at him right in the eyes.  
  
“I don’t know, is there something else that you need to say?” he starts saying and I know just how this ends. I know because I have heard this speech tons of times before. And all those times, I just half listen and give half a shit. “I know how Emily is your best friend and all, but I’m a guy, and it is different, a lot different, talking to a guy than a girl. I hate you as much as you hate me, or maybe even more, but who know, I might actually be able to help you. I’m your manager, after all. I can do wonders, remember?”  
  
Usually, I reply with sarcasm or something clever. Right now, my mind decide to just state the obvious. “Yeah, like have that dinner with shitload of people who just wants to rub off of my fame. I really have no idea who those people are, Jimmy.”  
  
This fucker just knows how to push my buttons as well. “You’ll find out.” I tell him to fuck off and he answers me with a grin, “Yeah sure, you, too Ian.”  
  
∞  
  
Mickey is busy and there’s nothing much to do. Since when have I been this dependent on him? I go over at Emily’s, but she’s not around, just her Dad Cassius. He looks at me worriedly and he tells me that I am also like their son, in a way, and if there’s anything I wanted to say, I could just talk to him or Lanier.  
  
“Yeah, no, I’m cool. Thanks though,” I fib and he lets me off the hook. I guess it’s safe to say that Emily has told them. But never in a million will I talk to him nor to his husband.  
  
Settled back in my car, I call Emily on her phone. Something I should have done before actually coming over and having that awkward interaction with Cassius. “Hey stranger,” her voice chirped on the other end of the line.  
  
“Hey, I came over to your place, should have called you first, I know, but anyway—”  
  
“I, just a sec,” she says something to someone. Busy Emily is so busy that she’s cut me off like that, huh? “Sorry, go on.”  
  
“Yeah, I just wanted to say sorry about dropping you off like that, acting like crazy and all,” I feel like I just spit out the things on my head without stopping to think about them for a second.  
  
“Oh, that, it’s okay.” Her voice is a bit rushed. Must be another meeting with her manager. “I uh, I tried talking them out of the whole dating thing, Ian,” she whispered.  
  
This is unnecessary, her giving me the _‘I feel you’_ talk. But I indulge her, she’s still me best friend, after all. “Thanks.”  
  
“Look, that interview You should tell your partner.”  
  
Jimmy? Fuck Jimmy, like he would ever listen to me. “I think I already did, you were in the car, remember?”  
  
“No, I mean, your partner,” she pauses for a bit before she says, “the one you’re seeing.”  
  
There is another moment of silence. “I know,” I sigh. She then tells me that I should do it sooner because the interview is set to be released on Wednesday on E! That is two days from now. That is really soon.  
  
I was just about to say something, anything, just to end this conversation, when Emily speaks again. “We could meet, you know, so you’re partner will have less people to be hiding from? You think that could help?”  
  
Emily is being considerate, using _partner_ and being really careful with not using _he_. But I’m not so sure with her whole idea though, Mickey meeting her, when Mickey once asked me about her and God, this is too confusing but Emily sounds genuinely concerned. “Okay?”  
  
“Okay?” she says with a faint laugh.  
  
“Okay, I think it’ll help, sure.” Not sure, but whatever. Damned if I do, damned if I fucking don’t.  
  
“Alright, look,” and she mumbles again, “Svet needs me now.”  
  
“Oh, yeah sure, seeya around.”  
  
∞  
  
The following night, Emily is waiting at my place preparing dinner. We talked about her meeting _my partner_ earlier today. She talked me into the whole thing and told me that all I had to do was pick Mickey up.  
  
On my way to The Hudson, I tried asking myself why I was letting Emily manipulate me, but I keep telling myself that no, that is not the case. That she just wants to meet Mickey, tell him herself that she is harmless to whatever Mickey and I have right now.  
  
Mick is once again already outside the restaurant when I get there. Something I think is cool so I didn’t have to get out of the car and be seen by people. I don’t need fans swarming around me right now.  
  
I couldn’t really tell Mickey the plan just yet, so we just talk about the most random shit. By random, I mean anything that would distract me from the whole plan itself. But Mickey’s vocabulary is different. He starts asking me if I was okay when he left me right after we did it. Great, just great. “Yeah, what made you ask?”  
  
Mickey shrugs, “I don’t know, I mean, you’re acting kinda weird right now, tough guy.”  
  
I stop at a red light and I smile as I face him, “Everything’s okay, Mickey.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah, I mean, I kinda don’t want whatever _this_ is to end,” Mickey says and I swear my insides feel all jelly-like now. “I hope I’m not weirdin’ you out or anything, but something about you feels like home to me. Well, at least the less negative parts of it.”  
  
“Okay…so I am partly home?” I glance at him.  
  
“Yeah, man whatever, it does not even make sense because you are the total opposite of that place, so yeah,” he shrugs.  
  
Hm. Now I don’t know if that was an insult or a compliment. Chicago is a really nice place, right?  
  
∞  
  
My heart is definitely on the roll with beating triple times faster right now. It’s as if it know that even though Emily wants what would good for everybody, something is just bound to fuck up. I open the door to my unit and lead us both to the dining area. I see Emily getting up as soon as she notices us and Mickey stops talking. Mickey looks surprised when he sees Emily which I think is very reasonable.  
  
“I hope you don’t mind, she wanted to meet you?” I say coyly with a smile. Mickey opens his mouth but nothing audible comes out of it. What bothers me more is the look on Emily’s face. Why must she look this astounded? Is this the lady devil’s big plot twist? Invite _my partner_ over then intimidate him and stuff? “Emily, this is Mickey, the one I’ve been telling you about.”  
  
Emily finally speaks up. “Hi, Mickey,” she smiles as she reached her right hand over to Mickey.  
  
“Hello, Emily,” Mickey does not even hesitate to shake hands with her. “Nice to see you again.”  
  
I notice Emily’s eyes widen as she looks at me and then back to Mickey. “S-sorry? I don’t—,” she stutters.  
  
“You guys met before?” My brain is now flooded with tons of possible places where they have met. Was this before I met Mickey? Was Emily mean to him? Shit, maybe she was in her bitch mode and okay, no, I should stop it with all these crazy thoughts.  
  
Mickey chuckles faintly but I see something else in his eyes when he says, “The Hudson, you and Ian were on a date or something?”  
  
“Oh,” I unconsciously let out. Right, that night.  
  
Emily looks like she just remembered it and is back to perky Emily. I think. Or at least I hope. “Oh yeah, that. The waiter, right?” Okay, too much words, Emily.  
  
Mickey grips on to the sling of his back a little tighter at Emily’s words. He just nods and gives her what seems to be an insincere smile. “Yeah, the waiter.” Someone’s not happy.  
  
It looks like everything is okay, Emily does not shoot Mickey a look _that much_ anymore, and Mickey looks pretty calm and fine now. Well, except for me. I now understand how three is a crowd. “Okay! I’m starving, what are we having?” I ask just to let the awkwardness go away somehow. Emily quickly dives into explaining the dinner she prepared. I take Mickey’s bag and put it on one of the shelves. I casually run my hand against his back to get his attention and mouthed, “You okay?” Mickey nods with a faint smile on his face.  
  
Emily asks random things once in a while, just to break the ice and Mickey is civil enough to answer them. I constantly smile at her in a way of thanking her for doing all this. But my heart stops breathing every single time she opens her mouth. A part of me is still afraid her dark side might just pop out of nowhere and blurt _everything_ out. I did not expect Mickey was the one who would surprise me.  
  
“Now this feels homey.”  
  
I notice how Emily flinched at Mickey’s words. God, I hope he did not see that. I don’t want him to think that she is the kind of girl who judges people, although that’s what I feel like she is doing right now. I don’t want to make such a big deal out of this but I don’t want them to not like each other. They are like the only people I have right now and I can’t handle whatever it is that they are on right now. She suddenly gets up and heads to the fridge to get the wine she got for us.  
  
Emily beams widely when she pours our drinks. “It’s from my Dads’ stash, I wasn’t so sure but I hope you guys will love this, too.”  
  
Yeah, sure, because every gay couple loves the same liquor. I thank her anyway. Had to, I mean, I still appreciate all the efforts. I just did not expect it was time for her to pull the big one.  
  
“So Mickey, you do know about Hollywood things,” she starts to say when the door bell buzzes. Literally saved by the goddamn bell. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to tell Mickey about all this shit, we just started seeing each other and it just feels nice, like this.  
  
Jimmy and Estefania gets in and they smile when they find us. How polite of my manager to actually buzz before making use of his spare key. Estefania plants a kiss on my cheek. “Hello to you and your new low-cut blouse, please cover that skin for I am still eating and it somehow disturbs my digestive system.”  
  
She shoots me a look but she quickly beams when she moves over to where Emily is sitting. “Oh my God, you two are perfect! I can’t believe it. I have been watching you two grow, you’re like my two little babies~” Her accent is lovely, to be honest, I just don’t love the whole idea of her, right here, right now. Mickey, on the other hand, seems indifferent. I see him look up and then at me. I gesture him to not mind them and he just shrugs it off.  
  
“You only met us like a month ago,” I nearly hiss at her who casually sat next to me. Do they not see that we are eating and that Mickey, my _Boyfriend?_ , is here, too? Can they just go already? God, why are they even here anyway? “What are you doing here?”  
  
Jimmy is about to say something when Estefania decides to go on talking. “Well, yeah, but I told you, I have been a fan, both of you and knowing that you’re finally dating! The interview is everywhere and I’m like a really happy mom and this is just a really special night, you guys,” and I do not hear anymore after that. A part of my brain is asking why that thing is on tonight when it’s supposed to be on tomorrow. While the other half is just frozen.  
  
All I can feel is Emily’s piercing stare at me as look at Mickey who suddenly stops eating. We share a quick glance at each other and for a second, I think he looks genuinely sad. But then who am I to say, I barely even know him. He surprisingly says “Wow? So this is what this dinner is about? Congratulations! Cheers~” His voice does not even break or anything.  
  
“And you are?” Perfect, the fame-seeking and clingy bitch knows how to add insult to the injured Mickey.  
  
Jimmy looks at me and I quickly speak before Mickey or Emily would say anything. “He’s a close friend of ours, we’re kind of celebrating now, so please.” I see Mickey let out a laugh under his breath and my insides sink in a split second.  
  
“I was just dropping this off,” Jimmy states as he hands me a thick brown envelop. “It goes along with that folder I gave you.” He faces Estefania and tells her that they should go, though he does not let her hold his hand like they usually do. Must have had a big fight, huh? Maybe that is the reason why Jimmy looked wretched the whole time. This Estee sure knows how to cover shit up. But I should not think about them. I should think about what is left now.  
  
It’s silent the rest of the dinner and I swear I could feel my head giving up on me. I offer to take Mickey to the club but he says it’s okay and that he misses the bus. Who the fuck misses the bus? This situation turned out a lot worse than I expected it to be.  
  
I end up taking Emily home and she says, “He’s great, but I don’t know, I don’t think he is loving the whole idea of me and you.”  
  
I let out a fake laugh as I utter, “you don’t say.”  
  
Emily smiles faintly, “Cheer up, kiddo, you’ll be fine.”  
  
I sure hope so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 chapters to go! ^^ xx


	12. But at Last Came A Knock

My condo unit suddenly feels like a place of horror. I wanted to go over to the club, but then again, I was almost certain that Mickey would not want to talk to me anyway. So after I took Emily to her place, I went straight to the twenty-seventh floor of Sierra Towers building. I think I actually shared the elevator ride with Courteney Cox but my mind was too dysfunctional to greet her. At least I managed to smile at her.  
  
I did not get a single minute of sleep at all. I would close my eyes real tight in hopes that I would eventually fall asleep, yet I didn’t. I keep staring at my phone but not a single sign of Mickey. I ended up staring at the photo I took of Mickey at Santa Monica, how everything was not so complicated back then. Funny how time really changes things. And fast.  
  
Fifteen hours later, Jimmy is standing right by my bedroom door. His back is leaned against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. “Sorry about last night.”  
  
I sit up on my bed and eye him from head to toe. “Which part? The one where you once again used that spare key that I said you should turn over, or the part where you also brought your loud and annoying girlfriend?”  
  
“Both,” he utters as he walk over and sit on the edge of my bed. “I did buzz before getting inside.”  
  
“Yes, because that makes a lot of difference,” I roll my eyes at him. “You seem freakishly good today. What do you want?”  
  
Jimmy clears his throat and he puts on his business smile with a hint of faint laugh. I can already tell where he is going with that look on his face. “Everybody is hooked with you and Emily _finally_ dating, so, a press conference would be—”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Ian, listen, you have been living the Hollywood life since you were just a kid, you know how these things go,” he pushes on.  
  
“I said what I already said, let them think what they want to fucking think.” I get off my bed and put on a black sweater with a hoodie. “You hungry, let’s go grab some pancakes or something.”  
  
Jimmy lets out a frustrated breath. “I already ate. Come on, just one interview with you and Emily, it will be real quick.”  
  
“No, just not today, god Jimmy, I have somewhere to go.”  
  
“If you have some problems, just talk to me, do you want a new car? Oh, I get it, you want a party, for you and Emily, yes, that would be perfect!”  
  
“Jimmy Steve Lishman, I seriously do not know what goes on in that fucked up head of yours. But, as my manager, your job right now is to clear my schedule even just for today.” I put a black cap on and grab my phone and keys before I say, “it’s either that, or you make me a free man for a whole month, your choice. And yeah, lock yourself out, I don’t think I’ll be having that spare key any soon anyway.”  
  
Step one: Clear Jimmy Steve, done. Step two: Eat. Step three: Get ready for step four.  
  
After I grab a coffee to go from the building’s dining area, I head straight to my car. I wanted to have that special sandwich made, but the lady guard who did it was not around. I don’t have any more time to wait for her. I spent more than half of the day just thinking about what I should do, anything to be okay with Mickey.  
  
So here I am, finally in my car, barely managed to get in alive. Those paparazzi have to get real jobs. I sip on my cappuccino, my breakfast and lunch combined, as my head went over with the whole plan. Now I am on the third step, which is getting ready for the fourth step. But how will I ever be ready to face Mickey once again?  
  
For hours, I have thought about surprising Mickey, just so I could say sorry and all and not giving him the chance to dodge me or anything. However, I end up being the one who gets surprised when I go to The Hudson and not find him there.  
  
“If you are referring to that waiter who served the night that you were here, you don’t have to worry for we settled everything that night,” the manager happily delivers me his good news. “We apologize for his behavior.”  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure if we’re on the same page.”  
  
“I am saying that it was rude of him to say all those profanities to customers, and to you and Ms. Emily no less. We had to do what’s best for the customers, so we gave the job to someone else.”  
  
I glower at him in confusion, “Wait, are you saying that you fired him? And just for that?”  
  
The manager’s tone is condescending whenever he speaks about Mickey. “Well, you and Ms. Emily looked really disturbed and I thought—”  
  
I cut him off because I do not need any more of his ridiculous reasons. “You know what, there is probably a reason why he was acting that way and I think it’s just good that he’s not working for you anymore. If you fire him for that reason alone, then you don’t deserve him fucker.”  
  
My words are out before I could stop them, but I don’t regret saying them. Let the world know that I called this person a fucker. In fact, let everybody know how I stormed in here looking for this guy who got fired and pretended that he still worked here, that I came in because I wanted to apologize for not saying anything last night. I don’t even care anymore.  
  
I am settled back in the driver’s seat when I realized how slow I was. I remember how I picked him up from _work_ twice. And twice was he already standing out in the cold, even a tad bit earlier that the time his shift is off. How could I have not seen this shit coming?  
  
∞  
  
I drive as fast as I could to Club Red even though I know they don’t open for the next couple of hours. There’s nothing better to do anyway. I wait right across the street until I see Jody opening up. Another guy with a ponytail follows him inside. What is it with big guys and stupid ponytails?  
  
The inside of the club looks eerily silent and vacant. I scan around casually and Jody #2 beams when he recognizes me. Great, I guess Seagal and I share fans now. “Holy shit! Is this for real!? Hey Jody, I thought you said this was a fucking gay club.”  
  
Holy shit, this man is straight and he’s going to fuck my life and blurt my sexuality out in the open. “Ian, isn’t this too early for your shift?” Jody #1 jokes. Not good.  
  
“Dream on, Jody. Who is this?” I ask as I eye Jody #2 from head to toe. For some reasons, he reminds me of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo, but nah, too much hair and uh, _meat_? He still looks pretty stunned that we are standing in the same room.  
  
Jody grins and introduces us both. “This is Tommy’s replacement starting today, Kev—”  
  
“Kevin Ball, and I’m not gay,” he proudly announces as he extends his hand out. “I also already know you, obviously, but wow, man. Holy shit.”  
  
“Okay,” I say with a forced smile plastered on my face as I shake his hand. “Replacement? Tommy quit his job?” Great, everyone’s not around. Just great.  
  
“Well, not really. He got sick or something, he’s actually still in the hospital, if you might want to visit him, I could get you his room number.”  
  
“Yeah, no, it’s cool, I can go check it myself.” I say just to drop the subject. It kind of makes me feel more depressed. Jody smiles and then excuses himself to go and prepare the place for the night.  
  
Kevin is still staring at me creepily. “Yeah, I’ll be hanging at the bar, if you need anything.”  
  
Yes, and I’ll go hang myself while I wait for Mickey to arrive. “Sure.” I would love to stay as far as possible from Kevin, but I really don’t have a choice. It was either Kevin, or the bunch of other guys hitting on me and undressing me with their eyes. I have to go with Straight Kevin.  
  
He is very chatty for a straight guy. Kevin starts talking about his kid Liam and his _super beautiful and goddamn sexy wife_ Veronica. The club started letting people in two hours ago but there is still no sign of Mickey. Casually, I ask Kevin about Mickey. “Is Mickey coming in today?”  
  
“Sorry, man, I just started, so I really have no idea who that Mickey is,” he answers as he hands me s hot of whiskey. Beautiful.  
  
“Maybe he is in the back, not so tall, brunet, probably nineteen or twenty, blue eyes.” I wanted to say beautiful, but of course, I could not.  
  
Kevin thinks about it for a minute. “No, can you be more specific.” How could I be more specific?  
  
“Right, he’s got the letters for fuck u-up on each of his fingers, but generally, he looks pretty clean.” Kevin grimaces and I hope against hope that I did not say something too gay. But what is being careful if I don’t get to see Mickey?  
  
“Holy shit! Do you mean Milkovich? Mickey Milkovich?” His eyes are on their way out of their sockets now and it hits me, I still don’t know Mickey’s last name.  
  
“Yeah, I guess,” I say, though it sounded more like a question than a statement. “And please stop saying—”  
  
“Holy shit!” That is very annoying, but he does not seem to notice how I am already inching closer to help those eyeballs escape him. “Are you serious? Milkovich is working in _this_ place? My wife does not even know I work here.” Why the fuck did Tommy let this creature work in his place?  
  
Kevin keeps screaming over the music, talking things about this Mickey Milkovich which is like the total opposite of the Mickey I know. I think he is probably talking about another Mickey but I just keep nodding like we are on the same page. Poor Other Mickey, now Kevin thinks he works in a place like _this_.  
  
A couple of shots later and my head is slightly fogged. “Sorry what?”  
  
“I said, this girl Lip is dating is really cute and blonde, those things, but I only saw her once, Kara, Karey? Typical teen rebel who left home, now living with Lip.”  
  
“And who is Lip?”  
  
“Jesus, where you even listening? He’s the one next to Fiona. Then there’s Debbie and Carl.”  
  
The questions just keep stammering their way out of my mouth. “Who the hell are those people?”  
  
“I told you, they’re like the family I have, the Gallaghers.”  
  
“Gallaghers,” I murmur. “Sounds tough.”  
  
“The toughest, well, not necessarily physically, I mean, I remember Mickey and his brothers beating Lip down over some failed paper. Kids these days, right?”  
The sound of his name alone stirs me awake from the blur that is brought by the number of whiskey shots I had. Mickey. Even if in my heart, I know that Kevin is talking about Other Mickey, he is still Mickey, and that name is just too beautiful to ignore.  
  
∞  
  
Three whole days later and still, no Mickey. I keep calling Mickey but to no avail. Great. We’re not officially together _yet_ and we have already broken up. Perfect. Jimmy calls to remind me of the gala thing tonight. As badly as I wanted to take Mickey with me, I know I could not. What would I say? He is just a friend who’s been dying to try the red carpet? Really.  
  
“A limo will pick you and Emily up and then take you to the venue, alright?”  
  
“Whatever,” I say with a gruff voice right before ending the call. Just as I was going to call Emily and let her know what Jimmy told me, I receive a message from her.  
  
Emily: _Be here by 6, we can’t make the limo wait forever. Plus, I miss seeing you in a tux._  
Of course, Jimmy forgot to tell me that the limo was not just going to pick us up, but I also had to head over to my quote girlfriend’s unquote house because we are _together_ , after all.  
  
Emily is wearing this red cocktail dress with lots and lots of ruffles on it. From the limo ride, to the whole gala, I did nothing but check my phone when no one was looking, just wanted to see if Mickey’s called or at least texted. He didn’t.  
  
∞  
  
I step in at the after party for at least an hour, just like Jimmy asked me to. I quickly left as soon as the time was up and quickly head over to the club, still no Mickey. Of course, I can’t just head over to her place to pick up my car. Her Dads will never let me go. I had to keep convincing Emily to exit with me. She did not want to at first, but then she realized how bad I wanted, and needed, to leave. Good girl.  
  
Once in the club, Kevin tries to talk to me but I say I’m too busy. As I down this shot of vodka, I remember Jody telling me about Tommy. That man should know something about Mickey.  
  
Mickey is making me drag my ass all over L.A. and God knows, he could be just sleeping somewhere. Fucking selfish shithead not answering my fucking calls.  
  
Right after I get the information from Jody, I sprint right back into my car and drive over to Cedars-Sinai Hospital.  
  
“You’re not here for me,” Tommy chuckles and ends up coughing hard enough for a nurse to come running in a jiffy.  
  
I shake my head at how Tommy managed to stop coughing as soon as the male nurse comes in his room. “He’s fine, nurse,” I say because I need him out now and just get some information from Mister Big Bartender.  
  
Male Nurse faces me and the blood flashes over his cheeks when he realizes that it was _me_ standing just a couple of feet away from him. “I, alright, I just thought,” he stutters and great, he is definitely gay.  
  
“Yeah, we kinda need some privacy though,” I try as much as I can not to sound too mean. I see the frown on Tommy’s face when Male Nurse leaves and Tommy keeps staring at his ass.  
  
“Jesus, Tommy, have some dignity,” I mock.  
  
Tommy then shoots me a look and says, “Easy for you to say, you are Ian Jackson. Damn it, he was my only eye candy, thanks a lot for making him one of _your people_.”  
  
Now he is really making me laugh. “ _My people_? Male Nurse is all yours, Tommy.”  
  
Tommy laughs along for a bit, and when we fall silent, he speaks in a low voice. “So, came here for Mickey?” I don’t even have to answer him, my face says it all. “He actually came over two nights ago, rambling shit about how he had to get himself into this pile of mess.”  
  
It’s a beautiful mess. I notice him pausing and apparently waiting for me to go on. Did I just say that out loud? Fucking reckless pair of lips. “I’m sorry, go on.”  
  
“Okay, so yeah, he said something like it’s so hard to breathe,” Tommy starts off. Of course, he wasn’t seeing me, and I wasn’t seeing him, it’s very reasonable because I feel the same way, too. “…and I was still damn medicated and I think I said something like go for it, honey and I really don’t remember what he was saying that made me say that, so—”  
  
All of a sudden, my back was not leaned against the cold wall any longer. My hands are clutching tight on the collar of Tommy’s hospital gown. “Go for it? What the fuck is wrong with you?! You’re out of your fucking mind!”  
  
I notice how Tommy starts coughing again. Shit, what the hell am I doing to this guy. “Ian, look—”  
  
“Shit, fuck, Tommy, I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I exhale frustratingly. “I just, he does not answer my calls, and I know I fucked up, I mean, who wouldn’t with a personal assistant like mine?”  
  
Tommy tries catching his breath. “I know you are worried. Just relax, I’m sure he will be fine.” Yes, because minutes ago you just said he was having trouble breathing, he will be just fine.  
  
“I uh, do you at least know his last name?”  
  
“You have been seeing each other and you don’t know his fucking last name?” He is fine now.  
  
“Come on, Tommy, he just, I asked, but he never really—”  
  
“I don’t know, wait, let me think,” he pauses and poses as if he is thinking really hard. Fucking payback is fun, indeed. Don’t mind me, I’m just standing here, not caring that every single second is wasted waiting for you to remember. “I think it’s the same with that scary shit of a dude from Con-Air, the one with the voice?”  
  
“John Cusack?” I ask hesitantly.  
“Yes, because Cusack is a scary shit of a dude. Think about it.”  
“Sorry, I recently watched that thing and I was staring at him the whole time,” I smile slyly.  
He grins when he says, “Yeah, I’m sure you do. I meant the other John. Malkovich? Oh no, Milkovich, yeah, Mickey Milkovich.”  
And just like that, I just snap. I could feel the walls caving in. If he is indeed Mickey Milkovich, then was Kevin right? Was he talking about Mickey the whole time? I still can’t imagine Mickey being a thug, stealing shit from convenience stores and beating shit out of people. That’s not Mickey. _Or is it?_  
  
∞  
  
How does life always manage to fuck me up? I arrive alone in my condo, this should feel normal. I used to be alone all the time, in my trailers, dressing rooms, hotel rooms. Nothing about this feels okay, at all. The silence that used to be my reverie is now killing me.  
  
My right arm reach out on the table in hopes of getting my phone without having to get up, but my hand touches something else. I grab Mickey’s blue scarf, the one I keep forgetting to return him, then I, as much as I did not want to, get up and put it in my closet. Neatly folded, I lay it just on top of the Coelho book with the bottle of lube next to it. I still have no idea what to do about it. It’s just lube, but it’s _his_. And I can’t let go of anything that he has left, a reminder that we were once kind of together. Okay, too much movies done, all the cheesy lines have manipulated my brain.  
  
I take my gala clothes off, leaving me in my boxers and white shirt when at last came a knock. My heart skips a beat and I quickly remind it to get a fucking grip, because it will never be Mickey. It could be Jimmy, or Matty, even. But I’m almost sure it will never be—  
  
“Mickey…” my voice trail as I see him right in front of me. This is not the way I imagined our little reunion would be like. It was supposed to be me surprising him, his blue eyes will be staring into mine as I tell him how sorry I am, how I should have told him sooner. Anything just not like this. Not like how my voice barely came out as I said his name, not like how messy his hair looks, not like how I can barely see the blue in his eyes because of the redness that surrounds them.  
  
Mickey is gasping and sobbing, I have never seen him like this before. He looks up at me but he does not say anything.  
  
“Oh God, get in here,” I manage to say as I pull him in a tight embrace. I am not a hugger kind of guy, but my head is telling me to be one just for now. Mickey tries to pull away, but I hug him tighter until he just gives in and hugs me right back.  
  
We both feel shitty, I know that. And I know that the whole thug Mickey Milkovich is still not sinking in, but I can’t really ask him about it now. This man needs me and I’m just glad he is here, like telling me I am the one he has, instead of Kash, or anybody else. He really looks all worn out. “It’s okay, I’ll never leave you, too,” I promise.  
  
“Please don’t say that, just please, Ian.” There is something in the way that he says my name, sadness? Pain? But he said it, nonetheless, right?  
  
I have no idea what’s going on and it’s freaking me out. The fact that he is hyperventilating is making me a more lot scared. “Fine, then at least let me take you to the hospital, you have to—”  
  
“No, I just want to be with you here, right now. I missed you so fucking much.” There, finally, I thought I was the only one.  
  
“I missed you, too, Jesus Mickey, where the hell were you—” I was going to say all this time, because I was worried, and scared shit, but his lips press against mine and I just had to stop talking.  
  
Every kiss we ever shared is different. The elevator kiss was definitely magical. The one before that movie thing was breathtaking. The one in the car was hurried and needy, mainly because of the tension and the situation.  
  
The one we are sharing now is not urgent, but not sloppy either. It almost feels as if he kisses me just for assurance and I make sure I make him feel just that, that I’m here, that even though we can’t be together in the eyes of others, but to us, we’re okay. Like this, we’re perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, comment and let me know how you feel. ;) xx


	13. Three Boys

The next morning, I wake up and regret rushes into my sleepy head. I never should have fallen asleep. Mickey is gone, leaving not single trace of him from last night. It seems as if last night never happened at all. And here I am crying at six in the morning. Why is he doing this to me?  
  
As I sit up, I notice the note he left me at the same place, tucked in my heart pocket.  
  
 _ **Sorry, I wasn’t sure what to do. I figured you could use a bit of distance.**_  
  
I thought it sounded familiar. Like a fucking déjà vu. But it obviously isn’t. Because I am not in a shitty hotel, and this time, I know who wrote it. Also, his handwriting is a little less nice-looking from before. What’s worse is that it’s the same words, but somehow, they have very different meanings. And it’s definitely not a good thing. It sucks how I could feel my heart deflating as each second passes by.  
  
∞  
  
Calling Jimmy was never one of my favorite things. I don’t think that will ever change. However, since my morning is pretty much fucked, I do exactly just that. I can’t go to Club Red anyways. He comes over in just twenty minutes, oh the perks of having a driver. Now I wonder how much he pays his driver.  
  
“You should go check the script now that the whole _Strangers on a Train_ is pretty much done,” Jimmy told me as soon as I let him in the unit. “Though of course, I can’t suddenly just break up with Ems. The plan is to end it by summer, when she films her next project.”  
  
Perfect, Lishman. What a better way to celebrate a wounded heart? Yes, planning on how to break-up with thy fake girlfriend it is. “Right,” I mutter lifelessly as I go over and check the script from the thick brown envelop that Jimmy got me like a week ago or something.  
  
I could turn this project down in a jiffy, take a break, forget all the shit I have in life, forget how Mickey decided to come in and out of my life just so easily. But then again a) every offer matters now that I’m supporting not just myself, but Jimmy, my stylist, some other people, and my new condo, which is really costly and b) wish I was just a normal teenager who ran away from home and crash at someone’s place for a couple of days. But I’m not, and I don’t have any friends. Well, I have Emily, but yeah, living with her will most likely worsen whatever situation I am in now.  
  
My face scrunches up unattractively but I should not really care about little things like these anymore. “It says here that I am gay? What the fuck is this Jimmy?”  
  
“Look, it’s a really brilliant offer. Your versatility as an actor will bloom,” Jimmy says the last word with complete hand gestures. “Everybody would love to see the grown up Ian on a really different role and—”  
  
“Taking it up into a fucker’s ass huh? That’s grown up to you? I can’t do this,” I scowl as I basically throw the script down my bed. I see Jimmy grab the script as he tries talking me into it, telling me that I am an actor and I could do it. He even brings up the scene I did with Emily for _Strangers_. I face him with anger and annoyance printed right across my face. “That was Emily, Jesus, Steve.”  
  
He mutters under his breath but my ears still hear his words. “It’s not like you’ve never done the act before?”  
  
“I’m sorry?”  
  
The fake laugh Jimmy lets out is both creepy and annoying. I should not bother on some shit like this but something about it angers me more. “You think I don’t know? I am your manager, your personal assistant, your agent. I have eyes and ears and I just _know_.” I should be stopping him by now, but for some reasons, I feel like a part of my head wants to hear more of what this guy has to say. Let’s hear it then, Jimmy Steve. “That little friend of yours, crashing here? Not your friend. _You_ don’t have friends, Ian. Acquaintances, co-workers, label-mates, yes, but friends? None. You have me and Emily, but that’s it. You can add in Svetlana if you are _that_ desperate. That thug-looking man with those _‘look at me I’m a manly man tattoos’_? He’s a fake and he’s just using you like a fucking leech.”  
  
I take a second before I speak not lose it because if I don’t, I am very sure I will kill this guy and I will not regret it. With a calm voice, I say, “Don’t talk about Mickey that way, you don’t know shit about him.”  
  
“Defending him like he’s your bf, oh wait, is he?” he says crossing his arms over his chest, with his right brow raised oh so righteously.  
  
Okay, that’s it. He’s definitely asking for it. “Shut the fuck up, Jimmy!”  
  
“I will not. I am the closest thing to a family you’ll ever have, you left your home. If I was a kid, I’d love for your parents to adopt me. God knows your parents could be triple times as fucked up as you are.”  
  
My eyes narrow at him, “Why don’t you let Sheila adopt you, huh?”  
  
“That is not the fucking point, you asshole. I know about you and Mickey. And that Club Red place, god. I know that you have this little thing down there that says _‘people don’t tell’_ , I have been there, _had to_ , because of you. I had to take care of you,” he sighs, running his fingers through his hair frustratingly. “But these people will sooner or later give in. Do you know why I give so much shit for Matty right now? So he won’t be jobless and he won’t keep following you wherever you are. That way, he won’t rat out about you being gay because he won’t find out about it in the first place. But eventually, this will come out. And I know that this may seem just a stunt to you, but I've had this all figured out.” Once again, Jimmy Steve’s brain is functioning like a real devil. “Take this job, and just come out. Or okay, not yet figured out that part. Not sure which should be done first, but both will be done. It’ll help you, too. Stop you from all the hiding, I swear it’ll be good for you. I am helping you, Ian.”  
  
Silence. I don’t know if it was the actual words that Jimmy said, or if it was just the way he said them, but I suddenly feel blank. So blank that the only thing I say next is, “I need a fucking drink”.  
  
“That’s where you’re good at, drinking your problem away. I won’t be surprised to find you in a motel again, but this time, dead. You were lucky that time someone helped you and not decide to rape you,” Jimmy sure knows how to remind me of why he is here in the first place.  
  
Laughing inwardly, I say, “Yes, because that was the thug-looking man with those _‘look at me I’m a manly man tattoos’_ , that one you said was a fucking leech.” Pause. “He saved me that night.”  
  
Realization hits Jimmy’s face and he mutters, “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”  
  
“Exactly. Don’t you dare bring him up ever again. You don’t have the slightest right.”  
  
∞  
  
Wrapped in my favorite jacket, I drive myself over to Club Red. I had a little drink with Jimmy after our heated conversation, but that was not enough. Still. I should be thankful we talked about my sexuality. Less people to be hiding from, Emily sure was right.  
  
Still no Mickey when I take my usual seat by the bar. Honestly, I am not even surprised at this point. A man comes out from the bar with Kevin. He does not notice me yet so I take my time observing him.  
  
He must be just as tall as Mickey and their body built is scarily alike from the back. His hair is different though, a lot longer and curler. A hesitant smile is obvious on his face as he faces me. Typical star-struck moment, I feel you, man. I was just as awed when I met Meryl Streep in person.  
  
“Oh, didn’t realize you were here!” Kevin excitedly greets me with a bone-crushing hug. “Ian, this is my buddy Lip, remember, I told you about him that night you were here.”  
  
“Yeah, I was a bit hazy but I remember a bit,” I grin as I offer my hand to Lip for a shake. He looks really glad as he took it.  
  
“Hi, nice to meet you, Ian,” Lip says. “My uh, my sister’s a big fan.”  
  
“Cool, tell her I said thanks for the love,” I smile. Then, I notice his doe eyes and I stop staring because something tells me that this is not good.  
  
Lip settles right next to me while Kevin pours us our drinks. I hate how even though they look totally different, something about this Lip guy still reminds me of Mickey. I actually want to just go on and drink but he keeps on talking, so I just let him. We did the weather because that is just a must. He asked about me and my family, but I tell him politely that I am not, and will never be, in the mood to talk about _my family_.  
  
I ask Kevin to give us another round of drinks. He took it as an invitation and started blabbering away as soon as he gave us our drinks. “So Lip, Ian says Mickey worked here.”  
  
Lip raises his right brow when he questions me, “Mickey Milkovich? That fucking thug who broke my lip?”  
  
“Wait, is that why you’re called Lip?” I try not to laugh but the amusement is evident in the way I asked the man beside me. Lip shakes his head when he tells me that it is actually short for Phillip. “Oh, okay.”  
  
After my prying moment, Lip goes on talking. “Not surprising, I mean, he just fucks around, too, act mean and everything, just so he won’t be the one getting bullied. Not surprised he’s gay. And the fact that he works here? Perfect giveaway. Who knows how many queers he fucked when he spent time over—”  
  
“Fuck you, man, just because one works here does not mean, he’s gay,” Kevin sounds defensive. But wait, fuck around? And time where? Jesus Christ, just what kind of man is Mickey Milkovich? With Kevin’s statement, I am sure I will never get an answer tonight.  
  
Lip starts laughing, “Yeah, does V know you work here? No.”  
  
Kevin hunches over close to Lip and seriously threatens the younger man, “Don’t you fucking tell her Lip.”  
  
“He’s gay.” Once again, my mouth, everybody.  
  
“I’m not!” Kevin’s eyes widen after my mouth decided to open.  
  
Lip lets out a low, “Huh.”  
  
“I mean Mickey,” I say for Kevin’s sake. This Lip guy is really smart, he could even tell Mickey was gay when he apparently did not seem gay at all.  
  
Kevin is now intrigued, it’s very clear as his face grimaces at the thought of Mickey being gay. “How’d you know? Wait, was he one of the dancers wearing those silver mini glitter shorts things?” I don’t know if it is Kevin’s brain, or his eyes, but something is seriously wrong with this big guy. Something that just sends me and Lip break out laughing. “What?”  
  
“Come on, Mickey dancing like that? No fucking way, Kev. I don’t even care if he’s got some moves, I am not paying to see _that_ Milkovich dancing in those tight shorts!” Lip laughs harder.  
  
“No, um, he just bartends, but I saw him with someone a couple of times, so yeah,” I feel my own voice falter as I said the last few words. Then I thought about what Lip said and I grin, because damn, Mickey’s got some nice legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm in the mood, I will be posting the second to the last chapter today, as well. So you guys better wait for it, alright? ^^ xx


	14. Frank the Plank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to the last chapter, as promised. :)

The next thing I know, it is half past three in the morning and the three of us are cramped up in Kevin’s tiny apartment, smoking weed. I have never done this before and I feel so fucking high.  
  
“So what brings you here, Lip? Just visiting the city of angels?” I ask inhaling a good amount of smoke.  
  
“No, I kinda needed to get shit from my girlfriend’s old place down at Greendale, Kevin here will help me,” Lip says, using his right hand to pat Kevin’s back. Teen drama, I see. Greendale households really know how to produce such ladies. I don’t really care as long as we do not talk about my sexuality and being in that club and all.  
  
“Yeah, I don’t remember saying yes to that just yet,” Kevin contradicts as he gets up and head over to get some more of his stash.  
  
“I also have to pick my prick of a father, Frank,” Lip adds.  
  
“Oh, is he sick or something?”  
  
“Nah, he is basically just like a fucking plank. I really don’t know how it happened but my sister’s boyfriend got a call from the police station here that he got arrested and we’re still finding out how he got here, but for now, we just have to take him home.”  
  
“Wow, plank huh?”  
  
“Yeah, ‘pretty much dead’, the police said when they saw him. Said he got a card with my sister’s name and our address on it, so he contacted us through Toni, because we don’t have a fucking telephone, because our father is an asshole. A plank is actually better, I mean, planks just lay there, all _planky_.”  
  
All I could say is, “I’m sorry.” I mean, Christ, what a heartless piece of shit. But Lip inventing the word planky was cute. Somehow, it reminded me of how Mickey invented the word _boyfriendy_ and I had to focus on Lip’s words to stop thinking about Mick.  
  
“Frank is just a useless shit who does nothing but drink and stay as jobless as he can and fuck things up around him,” he says before he took in the last of the joint. One second I was looking at Lip’s lips around the joint, and on the next, I was leaning in on him. His eyes are blue and goddamn, for a second I thought I was facing Mickey. I obviously wasn’t and Lip makes sure I know this when he pushes me off. “Woah!”  
  
“Shit sorry I, it’s, I should go,” I stutter as I grab and put my jacket back on, standing as fast as I could.  
  
He looks scared and shocked and worried all at the same time. Kevin is back with more beers from his truck and he says, “What did I miss?” My eyes are still a tad bit dilated and I’m glad when Lip starts talking.  
  
“Look , Ian, I’m…not to be homophobic or anything, I just don’t swing _your_ way,” he reassures me, but I feel very far from assured now.  
  
“No fucking way! Did you—?”  
  
I once again find myself sputtering out words that my brain has not yet filtered, “I’m really sorry, I should…it was just, I—”  
  
Lip makes me sit back down. “No man, you’re high and drunk and you can’t leave like this. Come on, let’s just forget about it, okay?”  
  
“I seriously don’t know what’s going on now?” Kevin says, maybe hoping one of us would let him in on the _joke_.  
  
“Nah, just hand us our beers, man. Besides, we could use another pair of hands for our big operation tomorrow,” Lip says eyeing me and oh, you mean join the save your Dad thing? Okay? Sure, I’m sure it will not be awkward at all.  
  
We went on coolly after a couple more beers. I guess we will actually do fine tomorrow, or in a couple of hours. I feel like a rebel. I feel like a normal teen now. Revolting. Drinking booze, well, more booze. Smoking pot. Moving on from a shitty heartbreak. Okay, not yet fully, but eventually, right?  
  
∞  
  
Today’s first target: break into Lip’s girlfriend’s house. Lip hands me the folded paper where his girlfriend has written her address while Kevin waits for my instruction. What has been read can never be unread. “What did you say her name was? I mean, her complete name?”  
  
“Oh, Karen, she says she’s a big fan of that Emily girl and that her last name is not important,” Lip hoots.  
  
Not important? Well I guess the video was not that viral after all. “She’s lying,” I say with a serious tone. God, there is no backing out now.  
  
Lip and Kevin say in unison, “You know her?”  
  
“You’re dating my sister, well, adopted, I really don’t know how to call her now. You’re dating Karen Jackson and just a little to the left, there, that is where we both used to live.”  
  
“Well, fuck, I—,” Lip’s voice trails and I tell him not to bother because it’s not a big deal, them dating. What bothers me is how in the world she ended up at Chicago. I guess the world is not so small after all.  
  
“Holy sh—”  
  
“Don’t even finish that, Kev,” I say because I do not want to hear any more of his _holy shits_.  
  
“I just, how are we going to do this now?” Kevin asks.  
  
The number of years I have spent with Jimmy is nothing if not for rubbing some of his talents off him. Being a devil’s advocate was never part of my bucket list but here I am, camped with these guys I barely know right outside of my former house, planning just how to get inside and take Karen’s and maybe some of my things.  
  
Lip is silent but I know we both have the same idea. It is the most ideal thing to do, but he is just too reluctant to bring it up. Because if someone just had to say it, that someone should be me.  
  
I exhale deeply right before I explain my version of the plan. “Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do. I will go and talk to Mom, Sheila, whatever, just distract her and you guys do your thing, okay? Eddie is usually out at this hour.” Lip then asks me if we have a backdoor. “Yeah, but Eddie had it locked down when Karen was thirteen or fourteen, I forgot. That’s when she started hanging out with her stupid clique and so she did something with her window so she could just easily sneak out at nights for sleepovers and parties.”  
  
“Wow, Lip, your girl’s pretty smart,” Kevin proudly declares.  
  
Lip shakes his head off and I say, “Yeah, but not smart enough and left like that.” Ignoring my statement, Lip starts asking me which window they should go to. “The one at the back, it’s on the left side, just make sure to keep it down. My room is just right across it. I will stay with Sheila at the living room. You better hurry up, the last time I came here, it did not end so well.”  
  
I thought of the heavy rain storm and the fight with my parents, very bad. But then again, I remember how it actually ended, and okay, it was not that bad. What makes it bad is how it should not matter anymore since Mickey is, well, gone.  
  
∞  
  
Sheila gasps in surprise when she sees me right on her doorstep. “Oh, Ian, you’re back! Come in, thank God, you look okay. Have you been eating well? Is Jimmy taking good care of you?” Her questions just keep coming out of her system as she hugs me tight. Okay, how does she expect me to answer and breathe at the same time when she is like a leech right now? She must have read my mind because she eventually lets me go.  
  
“I, I’m not back,” I stare down the floor as I speak.  
  
“You’re not?” Disappointment is obvious in her voice. “Well, what brings you here? You haven’t answered anything, is something wrong? What happened?” She seriously thinks I can answer her at this rate?  
  
“Nothing, I just came to uh,” I pause for a second to think about what I should say. I should have done this when we were still in Kev’s truck. “I came to apologize.” My face looks really far from being sorry, but she will buy this. Hopefully.  
  
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to say that,” her tears start to fall as she speaks. “You know we love you and what you did, it’s very understandable, oh Ian!” another hug, brilliant. “ _I_ am sorry, we should have let you know sooner, you should not have found out like that.”  
  
“It’s uh, it’s okay…Mom,” I say with a smile. This was not part of the plan but somehow, I feel a lot lighter as I hug her back. Lip and Kevin better get everything I had written on the list I gave them.  
  
Sheila pulls away after what feels like forever. “I just hope Karen is with us right now, too,” she sighs. “I did not want her to feel that kind of pain, she is just a kid.”  
  
I exhale deeply before I say, “She is doing fine.”  
  
“You have seen her? Where is she staying? Is she eating well?”  
  
I cut her off before she finishes her a hundred a minute questionnaire. “No, but she called me once and she just said she’s fine.”  
  
“Oh, my poor girl,” she whines sadly.  
  
“Mom, just trust me.” I flash her a reassuring smile just when I see Lip signaling me from the window. Kevin looks pained as he follows Lip after landing with a loud thud on one of Mom’s pots. They are still empty, telling me that her agoraphobia is just hopeless. “Yeah, I should go, I have this thing with uh, Jimmy, I’ll call you, or something.”  
  
“Okay, please let Karen call, too. I need to hear from her, you take her with you next time,” she pleads and I just smile and hug her one last time before I leave.  
  
∞  
  
Rescuing Plank, I mean, Frank, actually went smoother than we planned it. I, of course, had to stay in the truck while Kevin and Lip talked to the officers. Apparently, this guy called Toni has already talked to them and settled everything for Lip. All that’s left was taking Frank back home.  
  
Kevin and Lip supports Frank on their way to the car. Frank, however difficult they appear right now, does not stop talking. He keeps stammering things about how he ended up there and how things are not very fair. “What ever happened to civil rights? I am still an American citizen? What did I do wrong?”  
  
Kev rolls his eyes as he says, “You pissed on a cop’s patrol car, among tons of other offenses. Seriously, Frank.”  
  
“ _Minor_ offenses, Jesus, I was—,” Frank tries to reason more as he settles on the seat right next to me when Lip cuts him off.  
  
“Just one favor, Frank. Shut the fuck up? At least until we get back to Chicago,” Lip sighs. “This is Ian Jackson, by the way.”  
  
“Nice to meet you, Frank,” I offer my hand at the man with the gray hair sitting to my right. He does not take it. Classy.  
  
Frank shoots me a look and we end up having a staring contest. I fail because the stench coming off him is just too much to handle that I just had to look away. He scoffs right before he mutters, “Nice jacket.”  
  
I zip my jacket up and smile at him mockingly as I say, “Thanks.”  
  
∞  
  
Back at Kevin’s place, I excuse myself from the guys who are having another pot session. I head over and snuggle down at the back of Kevin’s truck, a joint tucked in between my left middle and index fingers. My other hand fishes for my phone from my jacket pocket. It took three rings before Jimmy starts speaking. “Where the hell are you, Ian? Sheila called and told me about your big reunion. You never told me about it.”  
  
“It was just…,” I chuckle as I try to think of the perfect reason, “something spontaneous.”  
  
“Yeah, spontaneous my ass. You sound fucked, are you high or something?” Jimmy points out.  
  
The fuck, this man is definitely the devil’s kid. How is he able to tell just by listening to my voice? Am I this amateur? “I’m not,” I fib right before I burst into laughter.  
  
“Where are you, Ian,” the tone of his voice is suddenly all dark and serious, diabolical, I must say.  
  
“Contrary to what you have said, Jimmy Steve, I, Ian Jackson, have friends, and I’m hanging with them right now. Well, the other one is not really my friend per se, we just rescued him.”  
  
“Rescued? From where? Ian, you better talk straight or I will have you searched, and we both know how shitty something like that would be, right? We don’t want that to happen. What would people say to your girlfriend Emily?” Jimmy knows just when to bring his big guns.  
  
“Alright, alright,” I say after I huff out some fancy smoke rings. I am getting better at this. “We’re just at some apartment just close to the clubs, but listen, my car is up at Red and I’m almost sure that it’s being towed again by now. Can you take care of that for me?”  
  
“Almost sure!?” Jimmy shouts and his voice rockets its way right into my eardrums. What an inconsiderate fuck. “Why do you keep doing shit like this, Ian? Jesus, can’t you give me a break for even just a day?” Lip calls me in, telling me that Frank’s in plank mode, so I am safe from him and his death glares now. “Look, Lip’s calling me, I gotta go. Call you later.”  
  
I hear Jimmy asking me _why the fuck would a lip call you_ right before I end the call. “That your boyfriend?” Lip asks as I get inside.  
  
“He wishes,” I sneer and Lip shakes his head lightly, laughing.  
  
∞  
  
Another dawn I spend in Kevin’s place, things feels kind of natural, somehow. Kevin and Frank are sprawled on the former’s bed. Lip is sitting right across me, talking things about Karen. “Yeah, she just came at The Alibi one night with her bag on the stool next to her.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah, God, I would have recognized her from that video if not for the heavy eyeliner,” Lip grins.  
  
“Oh, she’s pulling an emo thing now? How original,” I scoff. “No offense.”  
  
“None taken,” he smiles. “Besides, all that was from weeks ago. Fiona and Debs knocked some sense into her and she’s pretty much normal-looking now. She is really pretty, a lot different from the girl in the video.”  
  
“I know. You uh, are those your sisters? Debs? And—”  
  
“Fiona, yeah, and Debs is short for Debbie,” he smiles. “I also have a brother, Carl.”  
  
“Wow, your place must be a hell lot of fun,” I laugh inwardly.  
  
“Your place isn’t?”  
  
“It’s just me and nobody else, so yeah,” I chug down the remaining beer in my bottle.  
  
Lip staggers up and in a couple of seconds, he settles right next to me. He wraps his right arm over my shoulder as he says, “Awww, now don’t be sad now, Mr. Jackson. Here’s what we are going to do. We are taking you to Southside, Chicago! It will be awesome, Debbie will totally freak out, like in a good way.”  
  
“You’re inviting me over? It’s like Christmas in a couple of days, Lip,” my voice sounds disbelieving.  
  
“Are you kidding? That makes it a lot better. Christmas at our place rocks, trust me.”  
  
“Yeah, and it will be a lot colder there,” I eye him, still not sure if I should count on this little deal or not.  
  
“Then I guess you’ll be having a winter wonderland, Ian,” he chuckles as he gets up again and lies on the couch. “It’s four and yeah, we should really get some sleep. We need energy for the long drive.” And with that, he falls asleep.  
  
I could feel my bones crackle as I lay my back against the longer couch. God, that feels really good. Nothing’s final, but I find myself smiling at the whole idea of me spending Christmas at Chicago. A part of me is celebrating. This is not, Ian is all grown up, making spontaneous decisions on his own, having friends and spending nights at their places. This is my opportunity of being normal and I sure as hell will not let this go, I may never get this chance again.  
  
But there is always a b-side to every story, a part that as much as I try to suppress, I can never forget. Not that easily, at least. I remember Tommy telling me how Mickey is from Chicago. But that’s not it. Even if it is so hard to believe, _my_ Mickey is actually Mickey Milkovich. _Thug Mickey_ , the guy with the tattooed knuckles who apparently broke Lip’s lips.  
  
I may see him there, is he is there. I hope he is there.  
  
I then grab my phone and send Jimmy a message I sure hope will make him happy:  
  
 _Will be off for a vacation to Chicago. Here’s your break. Merry Christmas in advance, Lishman._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will work on the last chapter now. You guys stay awesome! ;D xx


	15. Daddyz Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! Last chapter, you guys! :')

Frank is still not done with his rant on how unfair he was treated, being a hardworking American citizen and all. The joyride Kevin so excitedly told me and Lip was fun, but I could not spend hours, or even days, stuck in a truck with Frank. Ever since Lip told me about him, I have been under the impression that he was a plank and that, well, he was very _planky_. He apparently is not.  
  
Jimmy had given me a thirty-minute speech at seven in the morning today. Something about what’s wrong with me, what is in Chicago, and once again, I’m being stupid. Things I had to listen through just so he would take care of me and the guys’ plane ticket to Chicago.  
  
The weather in Chicago is truly crazy. I have filmed in this place for a cameo on some series, but that was during summer. Winter here is so fucking cold, my orange jacket is barely enough. Of course, the guys warned me but I had some pride left. I should have listened to them. No big deal, it’s only the coldest couple of days of the year.  
  
Lip asks if we could pass by some place where we could at get some things for presents. “It’s just a couple blocks from the airport, I kinda promised them that they could look forward for some things aside from Frank.”  
  
Right, the man who has now fallen asleep from all the booze in the limo. I should have asked Jimmy to specifically exclude booze. Spontaneity is definitely not my thing. But I am doing it now. I should at least try and be good at it. “Yeah, sure, we’ll uh, leave Frank here, that okay?”  
  
“Is that a trick question?” Kevin kids, and with that, we get off the nearest mall and just shop away. Or at least that is what Kevin and Lip says they are doing.  
  
“A tub of glue for your sister? How old is she again?” I ask Lip.  
  
“Yeah, she has this project thing and she specifically asked for this,” he grins. “No, I meant _this_ , two-for-one. One down, dozens to go.”  
  
I laugh off at Lip’s statement. “Okay, you are so not serious, right?”  
  
“Oh he really is, Ian. He actually got Debbie some scrap papers from this factory for last year, that angel sure knows how to make art from trash.”  
  
“Thank you, Kev, for calling my present trash,” the shorter man brusquely says.  
  
“Okay, just tell me everything about your siblings, and I’ll make sure you’ll get the award for brother of the year,” I wink at him. He looks hesitant at first, telling me I did not have to do this. “It’s okay, I mean, you took Karen in, and well, it’s Christmas, we’re basically family. I think. Just ignore the fact that we just met.”  
  
∞  
  


“I’m looking for a Debbie Gallagher?” I ask the little girl about eight or nine. She is wrapped in her winter apparel that all I see are the tiny curls that frame her chubby face. Her cheeks flushes and her eyes dilate as she stares right back at me. “You must be Debbie. Merry Christmas,” I say as I hand her the bag filled with art materials, one of the three presents I, er, Lip got for her. She takes it but still does not say anything.  
  
“Okay, Frank coming through,” Kevin warns as he and Lip come up the stairs. I step aside for them to pass through.  
  
“I uh, your brother told me so much about you,” I say. Yes, this is not awkward at all. I was expecting for her to go and start screaming by now, but she is oddly quiet.  
  
“Ian…Jackson. I-Ian,” she stutters.  
  
A noise breaks from inside the house, telling me that the others have seen the guys. Too loud for a house of four, excluding the plank mode Frank. They sound very excited with the food we got along the way. Lip told me that they have prepared a little something for Christmas Eve, and with the way he shopped, I doubted if we were actually going to eat something edible. I hear Kevin’s voice shush everybody for Lip’s announcement.  
  
“No, wait, where’s Debbie?” A lady’s voice speaks from inside. That must be Fiona. Debbie and I are still on the same spots, right on either side of the doorstep, with me on the outside, halfway to freezing point. “She was so excited to see you guys.”  
  
“She’s by the door with Ian,” I hear Lip say. “Karen?”  
  
Kevin sounds disappointed when he says, “Oh, man, you ruined the whole special announcement thing.”  
  
“Ian who?” asks another woman’s voice. Exactly how many people are allowed to live in this place?  
  
I hear footsteps coming closer, and, I the next second, they are all standing behind Debbie, no Karen though. “Ian Jackson? Is this for real?” the one with the baby asks and I’m very sure this is not Fiona. I smile at her when I remembered the way Kevin described his wife, Veronica.  
  
“For real, baby,” Kevin proudly declares. “Alright, everybody, you know Ian, Ian, the guys, Fiona, my sexy and beautiful wife, Veronica, our baby Liam, this fucker is Carl, and well, you met Debbie.”  
  
“Shit, come on in,” Fiona says as she welcomes me inside. The house is almost as cold outside and she notices the way my brain must have shouted it in the open. “Yeah, heater broke down, so uh, just stay warm by the fireplace or something, Debbie, go set another place for him on the table. Welcome to our home, Ian.”  
  
The way she welcomes me is very heartwarming. After the whole _oh my Lord Ian Jackson is in the house_ moment, they seem to have gone back to their usual selves. Fiona tells everyone to help around, open up the foods we got. I ask Veronica what I could do to help and she just tells me to _sit my ass down_ since I am a guest. “I’ll tell you when all is ready, alright?”  
  
They have placed Frank on the couch, still snoring his life away. I sit still on the opposite couch, finally getting a chance to examine the house. Or the living room, at least. There are picture frames lined over the fireplace, one of each of the four siblings. I look to me left, a staircase heading up and there is a bat casually hung on the wall. How convenient. I fish my phone out from my jacket because in moments like this, all one could do is to pretend he’s busy with his goddamn phone. A voice calls my name and I look up to see Karen. She looks haggard, but at least a lot better than how Lip described him the moment they met.  
  
“How are you fuckface?” I ask.  
  
“A lot better now, asshole,” she says smiling. Terms of endearment, my friends.  
  
Karen starts laughing, and I laugh along. Getting up, I tell her to come closer. “Come on, let’s hug it out. This is a really rare opportunity, Karen.” She shakes her head at my comment before she does what I said. We never had the brother-sister thing, but it is Christmas and past is past.  
  
“I see you have met my girlfriend,” Lip remarks. “Stop being cheesy now, dinner’s ready. Toni will have to party with leftovers.”  
  
And here I am thinking that I have met everybody.  
  
∞  
  
Karen looks like she has been with the Gallaghers her whole life with the way she comfortably settles with them during dinner. I have never seen her _this_ happy. Fiona made me sit in between Karen and Debbie. Karen has already asked about her stuff, and I tell her that I have already asked Jimmy to have them sent as soon as possible.  
  
“Jimmy hates me more than he hates you,” she states.  
  
“True,” I chuckle. “But I’m still his boss, right?”  
  
“Right.”  
  
Fiona calls everybody’s attention and brings her mug up. “Guys, we should make a toast.” Everybody seems to agree when each of us raises our drinks, mine a brown coffee cup, including Liam, who ends up spilling his drink. “For this beautiful Christmas Eve, and to this crazy family.” Family. Well that sure hit me hard.  
  
“Yeah, and to Ian and Karen making up!” Debbie exclaims, finally out of her daze from earlier.  
  
“To family!” Everybody cheers and drinks up. And almost just on cue, I hear the door opening.  
  
“That must be Toni,” Fiona excitedly points out as she gets up. Veronica starts mocking her playfully, repeating what she just said in a completely weird way of impersonating her.  
  
Everybody greets Toni and oh, he’s a cop. Right, Lip told me about this already. He introduces himself and we don’t have time to do a little small talk because he says, “Damn, those Milkoviches never take a break. It’s Christmas and Chief wants us to stay and patrol around the area.”  
  
Milkovich. Is he talking about Mickey’s family? I wish I could just pull him by the collar and make him tell me more. But then again, a) he’s a cop, and b) reason ‘a’ is enough not to go on. I thank God when Lips asks more about what Toni had just said. “Terry out of the pokey again?”  
  
“Why am I not surprised?” Kevin chimes in.  
  
Fiona tells everyone to shut up about the Milkoviches. “If you have to, make sure to at least eat a lot before you go,” she worriedly tells Toni, and with that, we are back to eating.  
  
Well, they all are, not me though. I find myself staring down at my food when I hear Debbie ask me in a low voice, “Are you alright?”  
  
“Yeah,” I nod. The people in this household are too thoughtful, again, excluding Frank. This must be why Karen found it easy to settle in. “I uh, just not hungry anymore.”  
  
“Okay,” she smiles. “Your hair is really nice. The color goes well with your jacket.” These are the types of statements I usually get from my interviewers, nothing new. However, it feels different because other than the fact that she is just a little kid who sounds like she is twenty, my jacket sucks. Any paparazzi would kill to get me photographed in this vintage thing, awarding me “worst dresser of the year”.  
  
∞  
  
After our dessert, Kevin suggests that we should have fun and play games. “Charades anybody?”  
  
“Yeah, baby, that would be real fun,” Veronica kisses him for his _bright idea_.  
  
Debbie and Karen throws in some game recommendations, but my ears are set on Toni. I know I came here to have fun and all, relax, take a break. But here he is, parading and telling stuff about Mickey, well, his family, but yeah. The need to know more, hear more about Mickey is just eating me alive.  
  
I listen in as Toni asks Carl where he got the bike at the front yard. Carl proudly explains that it was from some kid called Little Hank. Toni then says, “Well, he had it reported, you return it to him tomorrow, okay?”  
  
“Yeah, for ten bucks,” Carl wickedly grins. I see Satan’s cousin in this little kid. I have found Jimmy’s distant relative. Fiona walks over to Toni, flicking Carl’s forehead when she tells him to do what Toni asked him to do.  
  
“Do you really have to go? It’s Christmas,” she pouts at Toni. I would normally look away whenever I see couples like this, being intimate and all, even just verbally. But this moment is crucial, Toni might blurt out anything Mickey-related in between their private moment. Long shot, but there’s no harm in hoping, right?  
  
“You two lovebirds are disgusting our very special guest,” Veronica notes.  
  
“No, I uh, was thinking of—,” I try to reason, but nothing good comes in my head.  
  
Veronica winks at me when she says, “You’re welcome, Mr. Jackson. And you, Toni, better tell us what is really going on at the Milkoviches. We need a little juice before we fire up with the games.”  
  
Fiona shrugs, and Toni eventually gives in. “Alright,” he sighs, “apparently, it is not just Terry coming back. Mickey is back, too.” I could feel my eyes are dying to come out of their sockets with the mere thought of Mickey just a couple houses away. “…and he brought his long lost sister along with him.”  
  
Fiona pipes in. “Little Mandy?”  
  
“I thought she died or something?” I hear someone ask, I think it was Lip, not so sure, my eyes are set on Toni.  
  
“Mickey has a sister?”  
  
Yes, that’s it Ian, feel free to butt in anytime. You were not supposed to open your fucking mouth, right? My head is having trouble controlling my mouth again and Veronica just had to point this out. “You know Mickey?” Kevin is quick in saving me, and himself, explaining her that we all met at the bar he’s working at in Los Angeles. I see Lip snicker silently when Veronica says, “Well, what a small world. Anyway, go on, Toni.”  
  
Toni adjusts his hat as he continues talking. “So yeah, the plot thickens, my friends.” And my heart goes crazy because how could the plot fucking thicken? It is beating triple times as fast, my brain can’t seriously be fucking up right now. The man I have been seeing, and kissing, and just spent my time with, is the actual thug they have been talking about, and now he is just a couple of blocks away, and he’s got a sister and—  
  
“Mandy is Emily, the actress.” The living room is silent aside from Frank snoring. To them, it is _just_ Emily the actress, sister of their thug neighbor. To me, oh it is a hell lot of different.  
  
Karen speaks up, but mostly to me, “Wait, _your_ Emily? You’re together now right? Did you know?”  
  
Shaking my head, I say, “No, I did not. Fuck.” And just then, I remember how Emily said Mickey looked like her stupid father. It all makes sense now that I recall her words, _“he’s a great guy, but I don’t think he’s loving the idea of me and you.”_ Realization slaps me right on the face and boy, does it sting.  
  
I hear a couple of ‘shits’ and ‘fucks’, and I feel too lifeless to feel the need to stop Kevin from saying, “Holy shit.”  
  
Veronica is the first to say more than just a curse to everybody. “So Emily, famous Emily, Ian’s girlfriend Emily, is that asshole’s _daddy's girl_ , huh? Is that why you came?”  
  
Now all eyes are on me. “No, ask Lip, I came because he invited me. I seriously had no idea she’s from here, adopted, yeah, but the rest is history, she keeps telling me that.”  
  
Nothing is registering well. My pea brain is all worked-up right now. Yesterday, or okay, minutes ago, I was _just_ heartbroken and worried and scared and crazy all at the same time, and the next, I find out that I am just houses away from Mickey.  
  
Everybody is taken by surprise when Toni’s walkie-talkie starts buzzing. He shushes us and we all stay silent as we listen in on the man from the other end of the line telling him to report to the scene as soon as possible.  
  
“This is so fucking exciting, I’m coming with you Toni!” Carl enthusiastically declares as he grabs the bat from the wall.  
  
“No, you are not, psycho. Kids, upstairs, now. We’ll have games tomorrow,” Fiona commands, stealing the bat away and handing it over to Lip. Veronica is alert in taking the kids upstairs with her. Carl grumbles as he marches his way up bitterly. Fiona then faces Toni worriedly.  
  
“I have to go, he must have gotten real mad, I mean, seeing his daughter for the first time in years, God knows what Terry could do,” Toni says and Fiona sighs as she hugs him, telling him to be careful.  
  
Toni’s last five words strike me hard though. And that is it. My brain just starts being reckless, just like how everything about Mickey just makes me reckless. That fucker.  
∞  
  
As I storm out of the Gallagher house, I could feel my heart pounding and my blood rushing all over my head. I suck at running. I suck at directions. God knows how messed up I am especially at decision making. But here I was, all hot headed after swiping the bat from Lip’s hand, rushing to where my feet were taking me. I have no time to care. Everything was suddenly clear. Fucked up father, crazy neighborhood, even his fucking tattoos made sense.  
  
I did not even think of how they would react. The last thing I hear is Karen screaming, “Oh my God, you do not want to go there Ian, oh my God Lip, help me. Do something!” From the corner of my eye, I could see Lip chasing me on a bike.  
  
My ears have shut once my head was set. On what exactly, I still have to find out. Lip finally catches up with me because I suck this much, and come on, he’s on a fucking bike.  
  
He gets of the said mode of transportation and manages to fully spin me around to face him. “What the fuck are you doing? You’re going to get killed, fucker!” Clearly not the best words you say to your special guest, not to mention that it is Christmas Eve.  
  
“I-I have to go, he is in danger,” I breathe out heavily.  
  
“You mean she? Mandy will be fine. She’s the apple of Terry’s eyes, I doubt if he would even lay a finger on her, come on,” he tries talking me out of whatever I was getting myself into.  
  
But now is not the time to talk about switching pronouns and favoritism. I hear my voice breaking as I say, “You don’t, y-you don’t understand, _he_ is in danger.”  
  
Lip stops talking and he looks at me in the eyes when he finally gets me. “Fuck it,” he mutters as he bends over to pick up a rock the side of his fist with his right hand and an empty bottle on the other. “Follow me.”  
  
∞  
  
Lip and I are just meters away from the Milkovich house when he pulls me back and makes us both hide behind the garbage bins. There are maybe around ten guys hanging out front, probably more inside. “Look, those guys come in and out of prison, Ian. They won’t give a shit if you are an actor or even the President’s kid, their lives are fucked-up anyways, they will fucking kill you.”  
  
“I don’t care, come on,” I huff, but as I was just about to get up, he pulls me back down and tells me that we should just let the cops do their job. “What cops!? Look around?”  
  
“Toni and his team are on the way, just calm down.” I can’t just calm down. That is the last thing on my list right now, calming down. We stop our little argument when we hear a loud banging from the direction of the house. “Someone’s coming out.”  
  
“Mickey,” I could barely hear my own voice as I eye him from across the street. Mickey brings Emily out with him, and Lip’s right, she looks perfectly fine. Well, aside from the confusion and fear plastered all over her face.  
  
Looking back at Mickey, I realize how he appears worse than the last time I saw him, when he came over to my place. And as if that is not alarming enough, I could see him wince as he wipes some blood off his lips. When did that get there?  
  
I could not take it any longer. Weeks ago, I was living freely and now I’m here, stuck behind a trash bin, for what, the fucking cops to some around? Wait for someone to die or something? No fucking way.  
  
In less than a minute, or at least I think it is, I have managed to step up and march over right outside their yard. Just in time for Mickey and Emily to make it to their fence. Now that we are just three feet away from each other, my mouth decides to forget the things that I have been waiting to say. They both look shocked to see me. “Ian, what are you doing here?” Emily asks silently.  
  
When I still don’t find the words to say, Mickey chides without looking at me, “You should leave, your girlfriend will be back in your arms soon.” His words sting, he does not even say my name, but I take them in anyway. I could hear Emily say something but I had to cut her off.  
  
“I told you that I will never leave you. Let’s go, both of you,” I demand as I take hold of Mickey’s arm, allowing me to notice the tears that have fallen from his eyes. He frustratingly wipes them off with his hands, groaning and cursing in the process. I wish I could just pull him in, tell him it will be okay. Instead I end up mumbling, “Mickey, please.”  
  
Emily is standing right behind him, telling the guys in the yard to fuck off, and they start to leave one by one. I could hear Lip’s footsteps coming closer, though my eyes are set on Mickey.  
  
“My father will see you, just fucking go,” Mickey says halfheartedly, or at least I think he does.  
  
My anger doubles when I hear it straight from Mickey. “Where is he? He did this to you? Where the fuck is—”  
  
Another bang from the door, this time, an older guy comes out. His cheeks are red, mixed with both booze reactions and anger. The man is probably just a couple of inches taller than Mickey, and no, Emily, this sick man with the rifle does not look like Mickey at all.  
  
My eyes widen as he comes over to where we are standing, trudging one heavy step at a time. “You sick and stupid fuck! I will fucking kill you. You child thief!”  
  
Emily, as crazy as she seemed that one Sunday morning, looks like a scared little puppy next to their diabolic father who has managed to seize her skinny arm. “Let me go, please.”  
  
My heart is out of control by now. I do not care that I am not breathing normally, or that this daunting and scary man is getting closer each second, or that I could hear him cocking his gun. I guess this is it, my brain has lost its senses and now my heart just takes over as it faces death.  
  
This is real life, and I could definitely die. Or I could choose to run far away and live. But what good is living without Mickey. I have been living well my whole life then he comes and in just a few days, he has managed to turn it around. Suddenly, I feel free but dependent of him. I finally get the guts to do things my way, which is why I am here, right now, wrapping my arms around Mickey.  
  
Lip’s voice shouts at me from a couple of meters away telling me to get down. But he was a second too late. And his voice was clouded with the sound of our banging hearts, Mickey and mine. Or maybe that was another bang. The type that could blow your ears deaf if you are not used to it.  
  
I have always hated projects that involved guns. And now this old man just pulls the trigger for the second time, very close to me, or at me, I am not sure anymore as everything suddenly feels still and eerily silent.  
  
There is music blaring from inside the house. I could hear Emily sobbing and Lip screaming for help. The sound of sirens coming adds to the peculiar mix. But there is this one thing I focus on listening to, the gasping sounds coming from Mickey as he tries so hard to breathe.  
  
“Ian.”  
  
I wish I had the remaining strength to at least say his name, but trying hard to keep breathing and be able to hear him say my name was exhausting enough for my body. I could not even speak a single word. If that’s the last word that I would ever hear, then I _think_ I could die happy. The sound of Mickey as his voice says my name.  
  
Yes, I definitely could die happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for making it til the end. I know it's not that good, being unbeta'ed and all. Just glad I myself made it til this chapter. Again, thank you thank you thank you! :D  
> happythankyoumoreplease xx
> 
> P.S. The second part is up now, you guys should check it out. :)


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